


Branches and Roots

by Beezzi



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beezzi/pseuds/Beezzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jubilee takes a sudden interest in advanced mathematics, the life of a reclusive scientist will never be the same again. But what’s really going on behind those crimson eyes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** All recognisable characters belong to Marvel. I'm just dipping a toe in their figurative fiction lake.

Dr Mattias Holgersson and the rest of the Columbia Science Department are mine and will be whipped repeatedly if they misbehave or turn even a bit Mary Sue. (Except for Donna, who can be saved with a good spanking.)

* * *

**Timeline Housekeeping:** I’m setting this about a year or so before Battle of the Atom, but the schism is in effect and Jubes has been home with Shogo for a few months. Only the first part of the Arkea adjectiveless ‘X-Men’ arch has happened and the wee lad’s adoption has been finalised. (Oh, and Marvel: shelve Sho after Woodsey leaves and we riot!)

 **Minor Character Housekeeping:** Paige never had her moulting/Toad drama.

Warren has all his memories and his fluffy wings, but is still blue. (Yip, sucks for him, but he’s super rich - kinda makes it better.) 

Banshee is alive and is a senior combat instructor. Rogue, unfortunately, is still dead. I adore the southern belle, but I also want to explore Marjorie Liu’s idea of Gambit and Cecelia as an odd couple for a bit. I might resurrect her at some point. 

Many thanks to my very special beta reader. I love you Snugglebunny. 

Questions? Leave a comment after the beep………...BEEP!

Enjoy! :o)

* * *

  ** _Prologue_**

It was pure dumb luck. One quick Google search and there he was. No long hours spent weeding through stuffy mathematics journals or picking Hank’s brain at ungodly hours. She didn’t even have to bribe Kitty with promises of expensive dark chocolate and indentured servitude.

Nope, Dr Mattias Holgersson was as easy to find as an coked-up supermodel at a Tony Stark party.

And that was just plain wrong.

Life had never flowed that smoothly for Jubilation Lee. As other young girls were hanging off Jungle Gyms and wondering why boys were so dumb, Jubes was already spending most of her free time perfecting aerial cartwheels and piked saltos. Later, as her peers were entering their final year of junior high, she was running around Madripoor with a hallucinating Canadian and a British body-switched ninja.

So when that computational fluid dynamicist just landed in her lap, it left the former firecracker feeling a bit miffed. He was a junior lecturer at Columbia where she was just about to start as a freshman in a month. How simple was that?

If only the gods had blessed her with similar good luck on M-Day.

The only obstacle would be finding a way to get her average BA undergrad butt a spot among the handful of physics and maths grads accepted each year.


	2. The Amazon Physicist

Jubilee resisted the urge to take a swipe at the sweaty jock that clumsily tumbled into her. She counted to ten and reminded herself that he wasn’t solely to blame. Columbia University’s brand spanking new Reed Hall was bulging at its seams with course and club information booths, not to the mention hundreds of eager freshmen pretending they weren’t all shell-shocked by the insane array of distractions that varsity life has to offer. It was a human pinball machine - and a wonder anyone got where they needed to be with only a minimum of PG-rated swearing and violence.

Jubes gave herself a mental pat on the back for having the foresight to leave Shogo at home. Heaven knows how the infant would've reacted to the maelstrom before her. As contented as he was most of the time, Shogo tended to get cranky in large, noisy crowds.

While his mom was fighting an intense desire to commit freshman genocide, Sho was most likely napping under the watchful eye of Broo, who had taken quite a liking to the squidgy little humanoid. Supernanny may have some reservations about a member of a parasitic alien species doing babysitting duty, but Jubilee had confidence in the broodling’s ability to take care of her son. Besides, if Shogo had as much as a scratch on him when his mom got home, Broo was smart enough to know a myriad of unspeakable horrors awaited him.

Jubilee pushed her way through the masses towards a quieter corner of the hall, housing the only booth that did not have a throng of people around it. Unlike the other tables, the Science Department’s stand still had stacks of information pamphlets and branded souvenirs to hand out to prospective enrollees.

But the general absence of interest was not the only thing that made the Science Department booth unique.

Fixedly grinning at the empty space before her was the epitome of an Amazon. The young, statuesque blonde might not have had Ororo’s natural, regal poise, but Bobby still would’ve rated her at least an eight on the Drake hotness scale.

Donna Mirowsky excelled at dispelling stereotypes, even from birth. When her parents were informed their premature newborn would only survive a few hours outside of the womb, baby Donna amazed hospital staff by not just surviving, but thriving. Some years later, a teacher who presumed that the daughter of two non-English speaking immigrants would never blossom in school was proven spectacularly wrong as the girl’s reports cards only ever sported ‘A’ grades. Later still, as a teen, Donna led her small-town basketball team to the state finals, with very little funding or coaching; the strong-willed girl’s single-minded determination carried the team.

It was this same drive that landed her a coveted spot among the academic elite. Two years into her nursing diploma, a boyfriend had made a chauvinistic remark maligning cheerleaders, blondes and algebra; by the following week Donna had changed her major to pure mathematics just to prove him wrong. And now, with two years left till graduation, she was already the department’s brightest star.

But Donna’s had no illusions over why she was manning this deserted table during orientation week, and it had nothing to do with her flawless academic record. Dr Gura simply wanted a pretty face to greet the fresh meat.

Unfortunately for Dr Gura, being warm and welcoming was not among Donna’s many talents. She had no time for something so trivial as pleasantry.

To that end, Donna decided that her humiliation was best endured by forcing a smile, and pawning off the more annoying freshers to Kevin, the awkward junior who had volunteered to man the booth with her.

As the latest fresh young thing practically bounced towards her deserted table, Donna fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘Poor darling is probably lost,’ she thought, inspecting the tiny frame. Far too young to be an undergrad; she was probably the jail-bait girlfriend of a freshman looking to swipe some free varsity swag.

Donna did her best to look intimidating, lifting her nose slightly in the air, hoping the girl would decide that Kevin was more inviting and ask him whatever inane question she had.

But the child did not seem to take the hint, rolling right up to Donna and trying her best to catch the Amazon’s eye.

‘Ahmm hi,’ said the girl as her gaze fell on the stacks of neatly arranged flyers. The nymph picked up one of Dr Holgersson's tutoring pamphlets and inspected it closely for a second before shoving it into her oversized book bag. What nerve! But Donna reminded herself to remain calm - the day was nearly over.

‘The ladies room is out the door to your right. There’s a sign. You can’t miss it.’ Donna spoke mechanically, assuming this girl, like the tens before, her was just looking for directions to the restroom and was too embarrassed to ask.

The nymph stopped palming pamphlets and gave Donna a quizzical look, followed quickly by a wry smile. ‘That’s nice,’ she said, ‘I’ll pass it along if I see anyone looking super desperate for a pee.’

Jubilee noticed the tall blonde’s throat contracting ever so slightly. Had anyone ever dared use the word ‘pee’ in front of her before? Jubes recognised that muscle spasm; Paige got that same flinch whenever anyone said anything even mildly crude to her. And as much as she loved the southern overachiever, it was just too easy to yank her conservative chain.

Jubilee craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the badge the Amazon had affixed to her immaculate jacket; it identified her as “Donna”.

She then noticed Donna shifting her weight nervously between her feet. Was her intense stare making the blonde uncomfortable? Jubilee smirked at the thought.

‘Sorry, Donna, but I’m not looking for directions to the nearest pot’ - the muscles on Donna’s smooth neck went wild - ‘but I would like to sign-up for Computational Statistics and Probability 201, though.’

It was Donna’s turn to give the girl a funny look. Computational Statistics and Probability was a very specialised module, with a stupefying amount of coursework. Most second years preferred to leave it till much later in their studies, when they’d had their fill of wild parties and cheap alcohol.

‘I’m afraid,’ said Donna in her clipped manner, ‘that module requires you to have signed-up and received departmental permission three months in advance. Your course co-ordinator should have told you that last year.’

The girl did not answer, but simply kept smiling up at her. Donna was getting frazzled now. There was something frightfully unnerving about this tiny creature. Maybe it was the way those unusual blue eyes seemed to be staring straight through her.

‘If you are transferring from another university, you'll have to contact the head of our department, Dr Garu. But you’ll most likely be rejected - Dr Holgersson's classes are over-subscribed as it is.’

‘No, I go here,’ the girl replied cheerfully - and for a split-second Donna could have sworn those cerulean eyes flashed crimson red.

‘You go here?’ Even to her own ears, Donna’s voice sounded strangled and pitched slightly too high. But she felt right to be incredulous; compared to other departments, theirs was relatively small, and most of the students knew each other, even if just by sight.

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.’

‘Well of course not, silly.’ Jubilee made sure her voice dripped with honey as she delivered what she hoped was the killing blow: ‘I'm a BA psychology freshman.’

Donna’s face dropped. She was a woman of facts and logic, and this simply did not compute. 'A BA undergrad?’ The Amazon croaked the words as if they were poisonous.

‘Yip, a psych major, with a minor in theatre studies.’ Then leaning across the table closer to the mortified Donna, she whispered conspiratorially: ‘You know, for all the hot drama guys.’

Donna suddenly snapped back to reality, now thoroughly annoyed with this presumptive little brat.

‘You must be lost. Humanities are on the other side of the hall. We do serious work here.’ Donna put a solid tonne of emphasis on the word “serious”.

But Jubilee wasn’t fazed in the slightest. ‘Good to hear it. I’d hate to think I was signing up to for slacker’s ed.’

Donna couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Maybe the girl was mentally unsound or... ‘Is this some kind of prank? Did Frank set you up to this?’

‘Look, I don’t know who da funk Frank is, but I think it's clear you can't help me. So why don’t you just point me in the direction of someone who can.’

Donna turned away abruptly, washing her hands of this strange situation and leaving her hen-pecked colleague to handle it. Kevin tried to be helpful, even recommending other possible avenues the girl could pursue in the future if she wanted to change her major. But Jubes realised that he, too, wasn’t all that enthused at the prospect of sharing his academic space with a BA undergrad.

Jubilee left Reed Hall feeling deflated about her future prospects. Messing with Donna was fun, but it hadn’t brought her any closer to Dr Mattias Holgersson.

As easy as finding the good doctor had been, getting regular access to him was proving trickier than she had first thought. The man was the Salinger of physics, only skulking out of his office to lecture his mandated hours. And while he made time to tutor a few promising students, he was almost never seen speaking to anyone else.

‘So much for not having to come up with an elaborate scam,’ thought the former firecracker as she made her way across the parking lot to her yellow Beetle, a “graduation” gift from Scott and Emma before either's infamous run-in with the Phoenix Force.

Jubilee shoved down as far as she could those negative feelings that bubbled to the surface whenever she thought of Scott Summers. That particular hurt was still too fresh to intellectualise.

Rather, she needed to keep her mind firmly nailed to the task at hand. Years of living on the hard streets of LA and saving the world had forged in the slight vampire a stubborn streak a mile long, and there was no way she was giving up on getting to the silly doctor so easily.

In the end, it would take equal amounts of hounding, flirting and downright badgering every person in Physics before she figured out how to carve herself a way in: she would use the department’s own inbred elitistism against itself.

She realised the upper crust of science, just like anyone else, loved to rub elbows with the biggest shots. And she knew just the person they'd go ape-shit for.

 

 


	3. The Perils of Orange Goo

Housekeeping: For anyone wondering - I figure Jubes is about twenty at this point. (Well technically she’ll physically always be seventeen with her condition...)

You’ll also notice I’m not strictly sticking to the Marvel vamp rules. Direct sunlight still kills without a lightbender and factor 400 Beastie-improved sun block.

After the whole Forgiven thing, Jubes doesn’t need to be dosed on Wolvie’s blood except if she about to go crazy vamp-way style.

Oh and eyes and complexion are normal as long as the former firecracker has enough blood in reserve to maintain it.

  
I’ll be tweaking the Forgiven a bit too, but we’ll get to that in a later chapter...

Also, as not to overwork my poor beta, I’ll be posting chapters on Thursdays. (I know, that’s a whole week between updates, but that’s still more frequent than Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye.)

* * *

Henry McCoy was a firm believer in the notion that any day that started with copious amounts of chocolate and caffeine could not possibly go wrong. So after polishing off three helpings of Cook’s triple chocolate chip waffles and washing them down with a quadruple shot of espresso, he was more than adequately motivated to place the finishing touches on his quantum bio-mechanics paper.

For the first time in years, Hank was submitting something of which he was truly proud. As complex as the raw data had been, he had managed to simplify it enough so that even the brownnosers at the Royal Society would be able understand it.

Once that was done, and thanks to a celebratory Twinkie sugar-high, he spent the next hour drawing up the schematics for a new batch of image inducers: the 168.4b series. The new updates would reduce the facial mapping latency by a whopping 0.00003%. And wouldn’t that be sticking it to Forge and his precious 168.4a?

It truly was a glorious day.

That was until his peace was disturbed by a rather abrupt phone call. Before he’d even put the receiver to his ear he was assailed by a torrent of verbosity. It took a moment for him to determine who was calling (Miss Wernbacher, the head administrator for Columbia University’s Science Department) and what she was calling about (details of his itinerary, apparently).

She hurled questions at him with light speed and he hardly had time to answer one before the next was asked. Would he be staying in the city or would he be driving himself to the university. Did he prefer to be chauffeured instead? Would a light buffet suffice for the final day? And most importantly, did he have any idea what he would be talking about?

‘I’m a busy woman,’ she informed him breathlessly, ‘I do not have the time to chase after tardy guest lecturers, Dr McCoy.’

As he bristled instinctively at the inference that he had committed some heinous offence, he also found himself apologising; Miss Wernbacher had that effect on people.

‘I can assure you, madam, that it was never my intention to inconvenience you.’

Miss Wernbacher ignored his apology and continued unabated: ‘And if it’s not bad enough that I have to chase after you, that nosey journalist, Nancy Fairfax from the Daily Bugle, is sniffing around – and what am I suppose to tell her?’

For what felt like an age the conversation, if that’s what you could call it, alternated between Miss Wernbacher scolding Dr McCoy like am errand child, and Hank quite honestly denying he had any idea what she was talking about. There seemed no way to persuade her that he was not the doctor she was looking for; what’s worse, she didn’t even seem to get his Star Wars reference.

Still, the woman kept insisting she had a signed contract with Hank’s name on it, negotiated on his behalf by a member of staff from Grey’s School.

Eventually he managed to persuade Miss Wernbacher – AKA The Devil’s Own Administrator – to email him a copy of this supposed agreement, with a solemn promise to phone her back before the end of the day.

Now, checking his email, Hank was even more confounded than before. The email contained a scanned copy of the contract, under a Columbia University header, which stated that he, Dr Henry McCoy, world-renowned geneticist and part-time Avenger, had agreed to an unprecedented series of lectures. There was even a three-page proposal for a publicity tour he was to undertake in the spring.

But it was the last page that particularly vexed him. There at the bottom was a competently forged version of his signature, with a smiley face at the end.

Hank knew of a handful of individuals who could replicate his intricate penmanship, but only one who’d dare to add such a ridiculous hallmark.

And it was this troublemaker Hank went to find.

* * *

‘Sho, this isn’t funny. You need to eat something.’

Baby food in hand, Jubilee was doing her best to ignore the stifled laughter from Paige, Remy and Bobby, who sat with her and Shogo at a picnic table in the backyard under one of the mansion’s many ancient oaks, shaded from direct sunlight but still making the most of the unseasonably pleasant weather.

Sitting in his mother’s lap, the infant was having the time of his life avoiding the food-filled spoon she was offering. Whenever she brought it close to his lips, the little rascal would either duck at the last second, or thump the offending implement away with a bop of his tiny fist. On the rare occasion she did managed to outsmart him, Shogo chose to spit or dribble the contents right out of his mouth, much to the annoyance of his exasperated mother.

So delighted was he with this new-found game that the boy didn’t even mind the thick orange goo dripping off his chin, or his mother’s black uniform and hair.

‘Come on, Shogo, we’ve gotta be at Mommy and Me Yoga in thirty minutes.’ The boy responded by blowing her a wet raspberry, spraying even more of the goop on her combat gear.

There was a round of unsympathetic snickers from the spectators.

As Jubes once more tried to out-manoeuvre her shrewd son, curious Remy inspected the little jar of purée the infant was so determined to avoid ingesting. The label promised only wholesome, organic, preservative-free goodness for your growing baby.

Tipping the jar slightly, he saw the price printed on the lid and winced.

‘Dat bebe eatin’ better den Gambit.’

‘What?’ quipped Jubilee testily. ‘Mother and Baby voted it the top baby food brand in their August issue.’

‘At $4 a jar it better be,’ Bobby remarked as Remy shared the lid for the rest of the group to gawk. ‘For that price, it should also rotate your tires and turn lead into gold.’

‘Don’t listen to them hun, they’re just jealous,’ said Paige in an attempt to console her now clearly fed-up friend.

‘Yeah, we’re so jealous of not having diaper duty or sleepless nights,’ said Bobby, his voice dripping with good-natured sarcasm. ‘By the way, J, there’s some food in your hair.’

Jubilee stuck her out tongue at him – then tried again with feeding Shogo, lifting the spoon to the infant’s face. But the boy turned his head away at the last second, causing the spoon to collide with his cheek and the contents to spill onto his saturated Yoda bib.

There was another round of snickers from Bobby and Remy; Paige at least had the good grace to try and hide her grin behind a napkin.

Jubilee threw her “friends” a sour look. ‘You know, you guys are so not helping.’

‘Face it, Jubilee,’ said Paige. ‘This is karma – payback for all the stuff you pulled on Sean and Emma in Massachusetts.’

‘I’m pretty sure I never vomited a $4 jar of butternut squash all over Frosty, Hayseed,’ Jubilee retorted as she used a handful of scrunched up napkins to remove the sticky mess from Shogo and herself.

‘Although...’ – her hands stilled and she cocked her cherubic face to the side, an evil grin spreading across it – ‘...all that white could use a splash of colour.’

Paige nearly choked on the apple juice before returning her friend’s smug grin. That mental image of the usually pristine White Queen with orange goop dripping off her bleached hair and decolletage brightened the southerner’s day.

‘Let me try,’ the metamorph offered as she reached out her arms towards the baby. ‘The twins never wanted to eat, either.’

Shogo squealed happily as his beloved aunt picked him up. Paige deftly dipped the tiny plastic spoon into the jar, held it up to the child’s mouth and was rewarded with Shogo slurping the purée right off the spoon and swallowing the lot.

His mother rolled her eyes: ‘Oh so you’ll eat it when a leggy blonde feeds it to you. You men are all the same.’ The boy ignored her and snuggled closer to his aunt.

‘You’re so totally spoiled,’ Jubilee huffed, but she still reached across to tickle one of his chubby feet.

‘Petit, you just keep raisin’ him and leave da spoilin’ to his oncles et tantes.’

Glancing towards the school building, Bobby spotted his usually jovial best friend steaming towards the group with haste.

‘Hey, look who’s finally come up for some air.’

While he admired Hank’s dedication to his work, Bobby worried that the furry mutant was becoming too isolated, spending days at a time in his lab, effectively shutting out the world and his extended family.

But Hank ignored Bobby’s greeting, his attention completely focused on the reason he had left the comforts of his lab.

‘Jubilation, might I have a word with you?’

Refusing to meet his eyes, Jubilee was all of a sudden intensely fascinated in the picnic table’s wood grain.

‘What can I do for you, Blue?’ Her normally clear voice sounded flighty and fake.

‘I received a rather fascinating call from Columbia University this morning. I was quite surprised to learn that I have somehow managed to sign-up to a lecture series, and subsequent tour, without my prior knowledge.’

‘You have?’ Jubilee’s usual muted Californian accent burst to life in its full, garish glory. ‘How totally weird is that? Don’t you, like, totally hate it when that happens? I went to this grody mall on Melrose once and, like, came back with this super-gross pair of Mudd jeans I like totally did not remember buying.’

Bobby knew that tone: the sudden regression to “valley girl”. Innocence tarred with a whole lot of guilt; Jubes had often reverted to that when she was younger.

‘Jubilation...’ The doctor’s baritone held the slight hint of a growl, and Bobby could tell Hank was slipping into “Screw your innate cuteness, I’m pissed” mode.

Knowing she was caught, Jubilee gave in – surprisingly quickly for her.

‘OK, geez Blue, so I might have signed you up for a lecture or five… but it’s really not a big deal. Look, just spout some science mumbo-jumbo for an hour or so and they’ll lap it up. Heck, I bet you could read them Charlie Hung’s takeaway menu – twice, in Cantonese – and they’d still go nuts. You should’ve seen Dr Garu’s face when I mentioned your name; I thought his head was gonna explode.’

‘Young lady, I do not have the time nor the inclination to say anything to a bunch of Ivy League brats. Not only did you forge my signature, but you had the audacity to pass yourself off as a faculty member of this institution. What were you planning on answering if someone asked what subject you taught? Or wanted to see your credentials? You hardly look old enough to drive, let alone teach.’

At those words, Hank hit a nerve – and Jubilation Lee shot up like a loaded spring. For the briefest of moments her eyes blitzed with indignatious fury, and with the added height of the bench beneath her, the firecracker could just about look the resident genius in the eye.

Hank took a step back.

While most members of the X-Family towered over the 5’1” former gymnast, Jubilee had never let it stand in her way. The taller among the gang – Gambit, Cyclops and Bishop – had often found themselves in eye-level confrontations with the vertically-challenged youngster, who was never above climbing, scaling or clambering onto the furniture – or other X-Men – to get in your face.

‘I’m not a faculty member, Beast? Well that’s news to me, since just I spend the whole freakin’ morning teaching a bunch of snot-nosed X-Kids how not to run right at a bad guy in a straight freakin’ line. It was Logan who decided to make me the juniors’ combat instructor, so if you’ve got a problem with that, take it up with him.’

‘Dat’s teachin’? Les enfants say it’s more like torture.’ Gambit was muttering under his breath, but the vampire’s sensitive hearing picked it up loud and clear and she swung around to face him, her eyes piercing like daggers.

‘When they come back alive, they can thank me,’ she spat back at the Cajun.

Hank sighed. ‘Jubilation, no one is dismissing your contribution to this fine institution, but...’

‘But what, Hank?'

There was a dangerous edge to her voice, and Paige noticed the girl’s hands tightening into fists – a coping mechanism from a time when the girl’s hands would dangerously spark and fizz whenever she lost her temper.

Hank took a deep breath. ‘We cannot risk anyone asking too many questions right now. No matter how trivial they might seem. After the whole Phoenix debacle and with Cyclops playing revolutionary, humans are more suspicious of mutants than ever before. Kitty has her hands full right now keeping the Department of Education off our backs; they’re just begging for an excuse to shut us down. We’re treading water in turbulent seas here, Jubilation, and the last thing we need is someone taking an interest in your past. Heaven knows your New Warriors shenanigans were bad enough, but what happens when they find out you’re not exactly “among the living”? They’ll close this school in a New York minute! So if you expect us to treat you like an adult, it’s time you stopped pulling silly pranks and start acting like one.’

Hank had expected the girl’s hot temper to flare at those last words, but something foreign seemed to darken those unnatural eyes for a moment, and she simply backed down. Her fisted hands uncurled and fell limply to her sides and her whole body slumped as she sank defeatedly back down onto the bench.

The utter despondency that radiated from her form tucked at the Beast’s heartstrings, and he gently rested one of his huge paws on her small shoulder. When he spoke again his voice wasn’t angry, but soft.

‘I understand that this isn’t easy for you, Jubilee, but when we agreed to let you go to college, you promised Logan and Ororo that you’d keep your head down and stay out of trouble.’

‘I’m sorry Hank, I should’ve asked you…’ She let the sentence dwindle into nothingness.

Shogo, sensing the tension around him, gave a nervous squeak in Paige’s arms and she immediately handed him back to his mother.

‘Shhh… it’s OK sweetie,’ Jubilee cooed softly, ‘Mommy’s not angry with you… Shhh…’

After a little reassurance the boy settled, but the playfulness of earlier had disappeared and instead Shogo gazed at the world around him with a guarded wariness far beyond his years.

Never one for uncomfortable silences, Bobby tried to break the tension: ‘What I don’t get is why you signed Hank up for these stupid lectures? If you wanted to pull a fast one on the old fuzzball, I can think of twenty-nine – no, wait, thirty-two better ways to do it, and I’m not even counting hiding his Twinkie stash.’

Without a word, Jubilee awkwardly propped Shogo on her left shoulder and, patting the child’s back with her left hand, struggled to open her bag with the right. Remy stepped in to help, taking the giant messenger bag, deftly unzipping it and handing it back. She flashed the thief a quick grateful smile and started scavenging through the holdall.

Not finding what she was searching for, Jubilee went for a different approach. Instead of trying to support the infant on her shoulders and fiddle with the bag’s chaotic contents, she simply upturned the bag and dumped the whole lot on the table. Among the items that tumbled out along with her cell phone, wallet and papers were: some forgotten day-glo make-up; a number of outdated X-Communicators; a collection of various baby soothers; and an extra lightbender. Souvenirs of a very full life.

Amid the chaos, hidden under a pair of gloves Rogue had lent to her just before the belle’s sudden passing, Jubilee found an envelope emblazoned with the Columbia University logo. She handed it to the blue doctor and returned to comforting her son.

As he read the letter inside, Hank’s face became a mask of puzzlement and confusion. Usually such a verbose man, he was mute as he passed on the letter to his icy friend.

‘This is a joke, right?’ asked Bobby when he finished reading.

‘No,’ said Jubilee, ‘I’m deadly serious.’

The original twosome looked sceptical. Jubes was offended.

‘What? First I’m not good enough to be a teacher and now I’m not even allowed to sit in on some fancy math class?’

Bobby gave her a quizzical look. ‘Why on earth would you apply for second-year math course? You’re a first-year psych major.’

Paige raised a shapely blonde eyebrow. Jubilation Lee was notorious for dodging her math classes – that is, when she wasn’t trying to disrupt them. In the most entertaining way possible, of course. The stories of the endless pranks Jubilee had pulled on her appointed tutors during her first year with the X-Men (tutors who just happened to be Hank McCoy and Bobby Drake) were the stuff of legend, and still recounted to new JGSGY teachers as cautionary tales.

One infamous episode was The Case of the Missing Jubes. One morning the duo had been waiting for the habitually late Jubilation Lee in the mansion library for quite some time, much longer than usual. Finally, after twenty minutes, they concluded she had cut their class, and deciding that they, as teachers extraordinaire, didn’t deserve such treatment, the two went in search of their errant student.

The hunt was extensive. They searched high and low for the girl, turning every common room upside down without any luck. The firecracker had simply vanished into thin air.

Feeling slightly worried at this stage, the two men went to see Jean Grey. The telepath performed a quick surface scan of the school grounds and traced the girl’s whereabouts back to the library, much to Hank and Bobby’s astonishment.

They raced back to the study hall with a bemused Jean in tow. It was still deserted.

Suddenly, something high above their heads, way up near the ceiling, caught Jean’s eagle eye – and she burst out laughing.

‘Umm… guys?’ was all she was able to get out between fits of very un-Jean-like giggles, as she pointed up towards the far side of the large room.

Both men looked up to see Jubilee lazily lounging on a wooden beam, the image of teenage cool with her shades, headphones and Game Boy, popping her ever-present gum, and tapping a foot along to an unheard beat.

Feeling eyes on her, the thirteen-year-old looked down and gave them a wave before stretching her limbs and gracefully leaping off the beam, landing solidly in front of the two stupefied tutors.

‘Like, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for, like forever.’

Of course they dragged her before the professor, in what she classified as a ‘totally un-cool move’, and she made a point of defending herself.

‘Look professor, I was, like, totally early for class. I picked a seat and was ready to go. It’s not my fault Tweedledee and Tweedledum here didn’t look up.’

The professor grounded her for a week. But Cyclops had been impressed with this hyperactive teen who’d managed to sit unnoticed for hours on a crossbeam in the rafters in her blindingly yellow coat.

So, going by the girl’s long-standing aversion to academia, Paige doubted her friend was serious. Jubilation Lee volunteering to do math? Never in a month of Sundays.

Remy just shook his head. ‘Why you wanna sit in some stuffy class, petit? Leave dat borin’ stuff to the eggheads.’

‘I thought the X-Men needed another scientist?’ Jubilee answered, knowing full well no one would buy it.

‘Yeah, because we have a real shortage of those right now,’ said Bobby, who started to list them off with his fingers: ‘Hank, Kitty, Moira, Cecilia, Forge and Danger.’

Jubilee made a valiant attempt to kick Bobby’s shins under the table. Hank turned a blind eye to the horseplay.

‘Jubilee, even if we believed you were serious about this, the university would simply not allow it. There’s just no way they’d let a BA freshman into a second-year science class.’

The girl’s face suddenly lit up. ‘Oh yes they would! Dr Garu’s already agreed to it. I get to sit in on CSP 201, and he receives all the credit for securing an exclusive round of lectures by the world’s leading authority on mutant genetics!’

The blue doctor gave an exasperated huff. ‘So that’s the going rate for a geneticist today... Paige, my dear, when you help Cook with the shopping this month, don’t bother with the institute credit card, just take me along and you can use me to batter with. An arm for some carrots, an ear in exchange for some parsnips and maybe a leg for a summer melon? Unfortunately you cannot have my brain, because Jubilation has already acquired a buyer.’

‘Geez, Hank, your being totally melodramatic here. I’ll get into some dumb class, and the school bags some cheap publicity. Everyone wins. Besides, you’re the one always complaining mutants don’t get any good press.’

‘You know she’s right, Blue,’ said Bobby. ‘I can picture it now: your face in the Daily Bugle next to Lady Gaga and the latest summer fashions.'

Jubilee detected the slightest hint of a blush beneath the doctor’s blue fur.

‘Well actually, Miss Wernbacher did mentioned that Nancy Fairfax from the Bugle has shown some interest in the lectures.’

Seeing the shade of purple his friend was turning, Bobby knew Jubilee had stuck gold. While Hank never lorded his genius IQ over his friends, he was still the tiniest bit vain. His love of tailored suits and small European sports cars was a testament to that.

‘See?’ Jubilee prodded. ‘You haven’t even done it yet and reporters are already calling.’

‘Jubes?’ – Paige nervously cleared her throat; she hated being the bearer of bad news – ‘You do realise that even if you where to get into this class, it’s going to be pretty tough. This is university-level stuff. It would be difficult even for me and I’m not even…’ The word got stuck on the tip of her tongue.

‘No, you can say it. I’m not ashamed of it – dyscalculic.’

‘But Paige does raise a good point,’ said Hank. ‘I’m sorry, Jubilee, but the fact remains that this course will be exceptionally difficult, if not impossible for you.’

‘So I’ll work harder, and stay up later, just like before. When Shogo starts teething I’ll be up all night anyway.’

She lifted her head, and he could see the determination shining in those eyes.

For the fifth time that day Hank asked himself: Why me? As Jubilee peered up at him, he got the distinct impression that nothing short of a nuclear blast would dissuade the vampire from her ambitions. If he didn’t agree, she would simply find another way, and who knew what that would bring down upon their heads?

So, lifting his eyes to the heavens, he relented.

‘If I agree to this, you will aid me in preparing for these lectures – oh, and Miss Wernbacher is now your problem.’

Jubilee let out an ecstatic squeal and Hank had to brace himself as the vampire hit him like a baby-loaded missile, flinging her free right arm with force around his neck. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ she chirped between light kisses of one furry cheek, while Shogo drooled on the other.

Today really was a glorious day – for Jubilee, at least.

 


	4. A Mangled Appendage

**Housekeeping:**

X's in the profile below represent a redacted sentence.

* * *

**Shield Surveillance Profile:**

Name: Holgersson, Dr Mattias Lukas

Nationality: Birth - Sweden, Naturalised Citizen - USA

Birth-date: 26/07/1989

Age:25  Hair:Blond   Eyes:Blue   Height:5’9

Distinguishing Features: Right-Hand - Maimed

Residence: Brooker Student Housing, Apt 16, W. 107th Street, NY, USA

Profession: Junior Lecture Columbia University, NY, USA

Education: MA - Theoretical and Applied Probability, University of California, Berkeley, USA (Thesis: Cause And Effect: Theories On Fractal Probability In Human Behaviour)

Phd - Computational Physics, University of Stockholm, Sweden (Thesis: Fractal Computational Fluid Dynamics Models In Closed Human Societal Systems)

Surveillance Reason: Xxx x xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx x xx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx x  xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xx x Authorising Officer - Colonel Fury

Surveillance Status: **Suspended**

**Report End**

* * *

He hated marking exams. Doctor Mattias Holgersson would rather have licked chewed gum off a New York hobo’s hairy back than mark another page of shoddily calculated trigonometry. It was becoming abundantly clear that most of his CSP 201 class hadn’t as much as peeked at the drills he had spent weeks preparing for them.

Grabbing the next bunch of answer sheets from a random pile, he instantly regretted it, his right-hand spasming painfully as his fingers closed around the bundle of papers.

He flashed back to his last appointment with Dr Welker, who had insisted he take better care of his mangled appendage.

‘If you won’t agree to more surgery, you must take better care of the fingers you have left,’ the specialist had warned him. ‘Please do the strengthening exercises I’ve prescribed’ – Dr Welker paused to make sure Mattias was listening, locking his patient down with an icy glare – ‘and don't overuse that hand. If it starts to hurt or seize, stop, and take a break.’

Now eyeballing the virtually infinite pile of papers he had left to mark, Mattias could only laugh at Dr Welker’s naivety. A break? Not bloody likely.

Still there was only so much one struggling academic can take. Mattias listlessly corrected four more papers and then, fed up with the general lack of scholarly competence, tossed his red ballpoint pen on the desk. The rubber support band made it bounce before it came to rest next to a physics textbook.

It was a sign, and under the circumstances the physicist allowed himself a sneaky glance at the blackboard behind him. He could’ve sworn it was in league with his stupid students and his aching hand – those white chalk numbers and diagrams were taunting him, derisively laughing at his inability to solve them.

He really had to stop writing them out; it was becoming a ritual. Arrive. Enter office. Drop briefcase. Scribble equation and nervously glance at it for the rest of the day, never solving it.

Feeling a twitch from his wrist, he tried once more to straighten his stiff thumb and index finger and was rewarded with nauseating pain shooting up his arm.

Yeah, that definitely was not good.

The rational part of Mattias’ mind whispered that he should’ve been use to the pain by now; twenty years was a long time to whimper about something so small in the big scheme of things. In a world where terrible things happened every day, did two missing fingers and a mangled pinky really matter?

Lately, though, even his rational side had to admit that the pain was escalating exponentially to a point where it was no longer only his hand that hurt, but every muscle and nerve between his pinkie and his brain.

Mattias had a sneaking suspicion it was related to the constrictive woolen gloves he wore permanently, but what was he suppose to do? Just walk around with his grotesque Franken-hand exposed?

With much reluctance, he pulled another paper from the top of the nearest pile, glanced at the first page and winced. No way in hell he was marking that tonight. He needed at least two Vicodin in him before attacking anything handed in by Jubilation Lee. That girl had zero aptitude for the work and was only just managing to keep her head above water. Miraculously so, as far as Mattias was concerned.

Miss Lee was an enigma inside a puzzle wrapped in shocking colours. The nymph had appeared in his class on the first day of term with a note from Garu saying she had “special” consideration. Mattias, choosing not to endanger his already rocky tenure track, had allowed the girl to stay, but no one could fault him if Miss Lee failed on merit. Garu might’ve loved to play favourites with every wide-eyed ingenue that floated past his office, but Dr Holgersson expected excellence.

Not in the mood for any more mathematical horrors, and estimating he’d made it through half the mountain of papers that needed marking, Mattias wiped the blackboard clean and called it a night. The clock on his wall read 10:08pm.

Outside it was a freezing, and he could feel the icy fingers of winter burrowing under countless layers of fabric. The large university parking lot before him was deserted, except for one conspicuous Beetle parked under a streetlight that seemed to flicker in the misty haze. Beside it, he could just about make out a small yellow blob holding a even smaller blue blob. Intrigued to find anyone still around at this late hour, he moved closer, across the asphalt, only to hear the larger blob furiously swearing to itself.

‘Damn motherfunkin’ keys. I know you’re in here somewhere.’

Closer, the larger blob took shape into the distinct back of a small girl, with a sleeping baby on her hip, rummaging through an oversized purse.

‘OK kid, I’ll level with you. Mommy could jimmy the lock Gumbo-style, but Big Blue made the damn thing near impossible to hotwire.’

Jimmy? Gumbo? Hotwire? What a strange creature.

‘We’re gonna have to make like ET and phone home,’ the girl lamented, pulling the baby’s blue blanket tighter around him for warmth. ‘And we need to find a cosy spot to hold out in or the Bobmeister won’t be the only popsicle in the family.’

Mattias took another step closer to the girl, his boot scraping lightly on some pebbles. Suddenly the girl whipped around, as if she was reacting to the faint sound, her left-hand outstretched like a talon and her lithe body turning sideways, placing as much space as possible between this stranger and her baby. The look on her face screamed “come any closer and I’ll cut you”.

Staggered, Mattias did the only thing that came to mind and held up his hands, hoping he appeared as non-threatening as he felt.

‘I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,’ he mumbled from under his heavy scarf.

The girl relaxed, and only then did Mattias realise he had the worst luck in the world. Of course he recognised her now. This wasn’t some lost little girl, but the short frame of one Miss Jubilation Lee.

For her part, Jubilee berated herself for not hearing the man sneaking up on her. She hadn’t recognised her CSP professor until he spoke, covered as he was from head to toe, his usually prominent Viking features – the scraggly beard was a dead giveaway – hidden beneath beanie and scarf. But that accent, an odd mash-up of hard Swedish consonants fighting round American vowels, was unmistakable. Some things the human ear unfortunately cannot forget. While it might’ve made the other undergrads swoon, Jubes much preferred Piotr’s husky Russian baritone or the Cajun’s sexy French drawl.

Logan was just gonna love it. First she forgets her keys in the library and now this.

‘Miss Lee, right?’

She nodded, surprised the professor remembered her name. In class she had the distinct feeling he did his utmost to ignore her.

‘Car trouble?’ he offered – it was a statement more than a question. ‘Do you need some help?’

While he wasn’t this girl’s greatest supporter, his mother had taught him how to be a gentleman. That and since she had already seen him he couldn’t just sneak away.

Surprised by his offer, but not willing to give an inch of her natural independence, she shook her black crown and stiffly replied: ‘No thanks, we’re fine. I just forgot my keys in the library.’

An uncomfortable silence followed. Neither knowing what to say. In class they had the unwritten rules of teacher-student etiquette to follow, but those didn’t quite cover being stuck together in the middle of a deserted parking lot late at night.

Mattias cursed his dumb luck. All he’d wanted to do was head home, swallow a bottle of pain pills and crawl into bed. But all that was outweighed by his sympathy for that little boy stuck in the cold.

Jubilee could have sworn her lecturer flinched as he proposed: ‘I could give you a ride, if you want...’

‘No, really, it’s OK. It’s really out of the way,’ she said, mostly ignoring him as she pulled out a pink cell phone from her bag. ‘I’ll just call someone from the school to pick us up.’

‘The school?’

Already scrolling through her contact list for possible blackmail candidates who could be “persuaded” to drive down to the city, Jubilee was only somewhat paying attention as she muttered: ‘Jean Grey’s School for Higher Learning.’

‘Didn’t that use to be Xavier’s… in Salem Center… on Graymalkin Lane?’

Jubilee’s head snapped up from her phone, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. The doc now had her full attention again. It was one thing for someone to know the school’s notorious name, but not many would be able to name the address on the spot.

‘How do you know that?’ There was something almost predatory in the way she eyed him.

‘I grew up in North Salem. Xavier’s was kind of hard to miss.’

North Salem was plain old wealthy Salem Center’s richer, sexier, uppity neighbour. A fierce rivalry existed between the two Westchester hamlets, with North Salemites often referring to their southern cousins as “hillbillies” – as if. On the other hand, before Xavier’s status as a school for mutants became known to the world, Salem Center residents often loved to brag about their prestigious school for “gifted youngsters” to the Northies. Jubilee knew that any kid from North Salem would’ve grown up with shame that their high school didn’t quite measure up to the kids on Graymalkin Lane – or so Professor Xavier, a Salem Centerist to the core, had lead her to believe.

‘So you were a North Salem Pussycat?’ Jubilee said with a smirking. If the doc really was from the neighbouring hamlet, a good-natured jab at his home team should get some reaction.

The North Salemite stifled a groan. ‘It’s the North Salem Tigers actually. Tigers, as in the team that beat your puny Beavers to the Steven’s Cup in lacrosse three years running.’

No etiquette was needed when one was defending the honor of the local team. But Jubilee just shrugged her shoulders.

'Look,’ said Mattias, changing the subject, ‘it could take someone from Salem up to 90 minutes to get here on these roads. I don’t feel good about leaving you guys out here alone and I really don’t think this cold is good for your son.’

At those last words, Jubilee pulled Shogo’s body closer to her own, trying to share with him what heat she had left. ‘The school is pretty out of your way,’ she said, indecisively chewing on her bottom lip.

‘Actually…’ – he was making up plans in his head now – ‘I’ll just bunk at my parents tonight. They’re still in North Salem and I have some books my mom wanted me to drop off. You’re just a few minutes down the road.’

‘Even so, it’ll still be like a massive pain for you to have to go all the way up to Graymalkin Lane,’ she said as her hand was already snaking her phone back into her purse.

‘Maybe I could drop you guys off somewhere in town?’ Mattias pushed the cuff of his left glove up ever so gently to get a look at his watch; judging by the late hour, he knew only a few places in the small town would still be open. ‘What about Rosa’s on Main? They should still be open and your friends could just pick you up from there.’

‘OK,’ she finally agreed, flashing him an easy smile out of gratefulness, and for moment Mattias could’ve sworn that the haze around them had parted as moonlight streamed over her striking features, her eyes deep pools of unearthly sapphire. The physicist felt his pulse jump ever so slightly.

Oblivious, Jubilee bent down to strap her son into the carrier car seat at her feet. ‘Could you drop us off at Harry’s on Pine instead?’ she asked, squinting up at Mattias through the glare of the streetlight.

‘Harry’s Hideaway?’ Mattias gulped. Much like Rosa’s, Harry’s was a Salem institution, but for all the wrong reasons. Urban legends swirled around that dive bar, and North Salem residents often told tales involving creepy mutants, unexplained demolitions and incredibly hot women.

‘Yeah, the one and only.’

If such a slip of a girl was hard enough for the Hideaway, surely his Viking blood was strong enough. So, not wanting to appear intimidated by her taste in hangouts, Mattias tried for a nonchalant ‘Cool’.

Finally done strapping in a now groggy Shogo, Jubilee marveled at how foreign that Americanism sounded rolling of the doctor’s tongue. It made him sound a bit more human.

As she moved to gather up her and Shogo’s bags, Dr Holgersson took them off her hands. ‘It’s pretty slippery from the ice,’ he said, indicating towards the glimmering ground between them and the faculty parking spaces. ‘Better you just carry him.’

They carefully made their way across the icy lot, Dr Holgersson leading the way. Although Jubilee’s knew her bags weren’t that heavy, her sensitive sight noticed the nearly imperceptible twitches of his right wrist.

Next thing she knew they were at his car, and Jubilee instantly reconsidered his offer. She severely doubted this piece of junk could even be called a car, let alone be sound enough to get them to Salem in one piece.

Guessing at the girl’s perturbed expression, Mattias move to defend his first love.

‘Don’t let her appearance fool you. Helga is a trooper. She’s crossed the Atlantic twice and got me through seven years of college.’

Accentuating his point, he gave the right rear tire a slight kick. The whole framed shuddered. ‘See? 1999 Volvo S70. Quality Swedish engineering.’

‘I’ll have to take your word for it,’ she said as he placed the bags in the trunk of his silver monstrosity and unlocked the back door so she could install Shogo’s car seat.

Jubilee was thankful she’d decided to bring Shogo out in his carrier today. Most days she simply left it in the car and brought him in her arms to and from the university daycare. But with the frosty forecast that morning, she had opted for ease of movement. And now having been introduced to “Helga”, she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to hold the kid on her lap the whole way to Salem.

With Shogo settled, Jubes was taken aback when the awkward Swede unlocked and held open the passenger side door for her. She could’ve sworn she saw a slight blush peeking out from under his scarf.

‘I know,’ he said, with a hint of embarrassment. ‘Americans think it’s silly, but my mother is a stickler for tradition, and you don’t piss off a German woman who loves to knit.’ He mimed a quick stabbing motion to illustrate his point, which brought a smirk to Jubliee’s face.

Closing the door after her, the good doctor shuffled around to the driver’s side. Climbing in quickly, he removed his beanie and scarf, but Jubilee noticed he left his winter gloves on, something he did even when lecturing.

Mattias turned the key in the ignition and the radio thundered to life, filling the jalopy with an unearthly racket of snarling guitars, hammering drums and screeching vocals. Jubilee visibly jumped at the sound, her vampire senses amplified the noise to near deafening levels. Seeing her distress, Mattias immediately killed the radio.

‘Sorry,’ he stuttered.

‘It’s OK, it just surprised me.’

Mattias turned make sure her son was not similarly disturbed; Viking metal at any volume was a bit much for most adults, not to mention a baby. To his relief, the boy smiled happily back at him, not in the least bit perturbed.

Jubilee noticed the doc checking on Shogo and laughed. ‘Oh, and he’s fine too.’

She reached back to the strapped-in bundle and the baby tightly grabbed hold of his mother’s index finger. ‘Totally right as rain, aren’t you?’ she cooed. ‘Only music you don’t like is uncle Sean’s horrid Irish tunes.’ Shogo pulled a yucky face and gave a disgusted ‘Buh’.

Mattias Holgersson never considered himself a baby person, someone who melted at the sight of cutesy newborns and their mothers, but the warmth emanating from this small woman as she gazed down at her son could’ve made the Grinch yodel “Jingle Bells”.

The physicist felt an uncomfortable pang where his heart might’ve been. Not wanting to analyse what that could mean, he instead went for an easy ‘So are we ready to go?’

The journey home was surprisingly comfortable, but the conversation was stilted, bouncing from one insignificant topic to the next. It didn’t help that the adults were forced to lower their voices to accommodate the snoozing infant in the back.

Mattias remarked on Jubilee’s west coast accent, and she briefly recounted the happy bits of her life in SoCal – though leaving out the uncomfortable parts about her dead parents and Gateway.

She asked Mattias how long he had lived in the US, and he told her of his dad’s love of 1940s New York cinema, and how the strapping Lukas Holgersson had seemingly on a whim moved his young family to New York when Mattias was just ten years old. He made no mention of the reconstructive surgery and nerve grafts that followed.

The doctor asked about Jubliee’s living arrangements. Why did she choose to live all the way out in Salem? Did she have trouble finding an apartment closer to campus?

‘Hey, what college student doesn’t like a 24-hour laundry service, free food and on-demand babysitters?’ No need to mention Hank and his convenient Shi’ar mammal blood synthesiser.

Next they compared travel destinations: LA, Paris, London, Scotland and Ireland for both; Stockholm and Berlin for him, for university and family holidays; Tokyo, Hong Kong and Hungary for her. Jubilee left out Madripoor; that thug-infested rat hole was a conversation killer.

Not able to think of another casual subject, Mattias steered the conversation to his student's major of choice.

‘So, Miss Mirowsky tells me you’re a psych major. That’s quite a bit different from CSP, I guess.’

He hoped Miss Lee would assume he was making conversation and not trying to interrogate her. But it was hard to miss the annoyed looked that crossed her face at the mention of her major. Mattias could even have sworn he heard a low growl coming from her direction.

For the first time that night the atmosphere between them turned frosty. Mattias wanted to kick himself; he’d been doing so well with the menial small talk up till then.

‘Not that there anything wrong with a BA degree,’ he spluttered, hopelessly trying to cover up his social blunder and ease some of the tension.

Jubilee’s ire turned to sympathy at the professor’s bumbling ways, she decided to cut the guy some slack. Instead of avoiding the question, she surprised even herself by answering it.

‘I don't know, statistics and probability just seemed interesting, I guess’ – a delicate hand self-consciously tucked a silky strand of hair behind her right ear – ‘I use to imagine that was what university was all about, you know? Getting out of your comfort zone, trying new things…’

The yearning in her voice cut through his natural cynicism like a knife, and he felt a pang of nostalgia for his own youth.

Jubilee turned from him to stare out the side window at the dark Westchester countryside. Mattias knew to keep his mouth shut and his eyes on the road.

Not looking away from the passing scenery, she continued: ‘The institute spoils us, I guess. We’re encouraged to explore subjects outside our comfort zones. If I wanted to take a few extra electives here or there, I’d just check with Logan or Kitty and they’d square it with whoever’s teaching. I’d obviously have to put the work in – wasting a teacher’s time pisses everyone off – but I’d be given a chance to try, at least.’

And that was true even now. In the last two months Jubilee had found herself sitting in on as many of Bobby’s math and Hank’s physics classes as she could squeeze in between university, training and Shogo. Ororo and Betsy reminded her that she didn’t have to take on so much, but what choice did she really have?

It had been two years since her last science class, and at first she thought the mental cobwebs would never loosen. At least she didn’t have to feel weird taking classes with younger students. In a school where pupils arrived from different parts of the world, not to mention distant planets, and even the occasional micro-verse, the Grey’s curriculum was “designed to challenge each person’s personal skill level” and didn’t impose any strict age brackets, because really, at what age did you start teaching the Ethics of Time-Travel or Randall's Ruminations on Retrograde Rotation?

Mattias didn’t want to push it further, even though Miss Lee didn’t seem unwilling to talk about her studies.

‘Well, if you need some help with the more advanced stuff, you know you can ask the tutors, or drop in during my consultation hours. If all else fails, you can always ask Donna for extra tutor sessions.’

That would’ve earned him a playful slap on the arm from Jubes – that was until she remembered who he was.

Determined now to steer the conversation to lighter topics, Mattias inquired about Jubilee’s plans for the holidays.

She painted a pleasant picture of decorated Christmas trees, impromptu snowball fights and mountains of Cook’s famous leftover turkey and cranberry stuffing sandwiches that made lunch for days on end. She was grateful, too, that he didn’t interrogate her on why she was hunkering down at the school for the holidays and not spending it with her family.

Asking him about his own plans for the jolliest of seasons, Mattias lamented that he could not join his family for their annual trip to Stockholm. He just too far behind with his work, not to mention his overdue research paper.

‘Working on Christmas? That seriously blows.’ She gave a slight shake of her short black mane.

‘Yeah, it does. I’m going to miss seeing my aunts and uncles. Some only make the trip up to the city for Christmas. Everyone sings, eats, gets drunk and finally, when everyone’s on their last legs and about to pass out, Farmor Unni brings out the knäck.

‘The who brings out the what?’

‘Far-Moor.’ Mattias pronounced the word slowly so that she could hear the unfamiliar sounds. ‘It translates as your father’s mother, Farmor Unni is my grandmother on my Dad’s side.’

Jubilee turned the new word over in her head and stored it for future use. You never knew when you might need the Swedish word for paternal grandmother. Hell, Angelo said she’d never need the Afrikaans word “stoepkakker” and she’d got loads of mileage of it so far.

‘Farmor,’ she repeated slowly, making sure to match the sounds and glancing at Mattias to make sure she got it right.

‘Yeah, you got it.’ He didn’t mention how different and nice it was to hear his beloved language slowly rolling off her tongue, and he gave himself a mental slap upside the head.

Meanwhile, Jubliee, now totally proud of her new-found polyglotism, moved on to the next word. ‘OK, what’s K-nack?’

‘Knäck’ – again Mattias pronounced it slowly, so that she could hear the “ä” sound – ‘they’re these sickly sweet toffees with bits of almond. In Sweden we have them at Christmas. Farmor Unni’s are the best…’ And he trailed off, lost in childhood memories of sneakily stealing hot gooey candy off the cooling rack with the rest of his cousins.

Jubilee pretended not to notice that far-off look of longing, and instead choose to join in with his clear love of candy. ‘Sticky sweet is one of my favourite food groups.’

Her voice brought the Swede back to the present. ‘Well then you'll love Knäck,’ he said.

‘So knäck is to the Swedish what gingerbread is to the Germans?’ she mused, thinking back to the buckets of gingerbread Kurt often tries to bring Stateside when he goes home for the holidays. A TSA agent once accused him of running an illegal candy smuggling operation, because who drags nearly twenty pounds of gingerbread across the border for their own use?

Mattias vehemently shook his head. ’No, definitely not. Knäck is a sophisticated delicacy. Gingerbread, no matter what my mother claims, is just overly spiced cardboard.’

Before Jubes had a chance to retort in defence of one of her favourite Christmas snacks, they had reached their destination.

Looking at the small, darkened bar, Mattias had to admit feeling slightly disappointed that he hadn’t insisted on dropping her off at the school. It would have added an extra 25 minutes to their journey, time he now realised could’ve been spent seeing how many other Swedish words she could learn.

Completely for academic purposes, of course.

Jubes directed him to pull around the back of the bar. Mattias did as he was told, and as the car turned the corner in the alley – and much to his annoyance – he observed the tell-tale signs of life. A bright light escaped from under a grungy backdoor, distorted by the shadows of feet moving behind it.

Jubilee noticed the light as well, ‘Hopefully that’s Ethel cleaning up and not Harry,’ she said, a slight worry creeping into her voice. ‘That man can be as cranky as a drunk at a puritans’ convention.’

The slightest shimmer of hope flared up inside Mattias and he grabbed at it. ‘You know, I can still drop you at the school. It’s really just up the road.’

‘Nah, don’t be silly, he’s just an over-protective grump.’

The glimmer died.

‘Harry’s cranky, but it’s only because he hates the idea of us institute brats being out late without supervision, even when we’ve graduated.’

Suddenly the back door of the dive bar swung open and the heavy-set figure of a man stepped out into the night. In his hamhock of a right hand, Mattias could make out the silhouette of what looked like a baseball bat. The professor instinctively puffed up to block the path between the shadow and his student. But if the fearless girl noticed it, she didn't acknowledge, simply peering over his shoulder to squint into the light.

When the shadow spoke, its voice boomed across the alley. ‘What do you want?’

The firecracker instantly recognised that voice; as a teenager it had constantly lambasted her for placing her “derriere” on his bar.

‘Geez, Harry,’ Jubilation called out, ‘It’s just me, you mad Scot! You can totally drop the macho act.’

‘Jubilee?’ The man lumbered closer to the car and for a second Mattias didn’t know what or who the man was referring too, until his student called back.

‘Yes, it’s me, ya big lug!’ she yelled over din of the car engine and the smooth rock booming from the depths of the bar. ‘Can you gimme a hand?’

Mattias motioned to get out of the car to help her with the bags, but Jubilee stopped him.

‘Oh no you don’t. It’s freezing out there. You’ve been great, and I’m not having you catch a cold on my account. If you could just pop the trunk, Harry’ll get the bags.’

And with that she bounded out the passenger side to retrieve the sleeping Shogo from the back seat, taking no notice of the verbal lashing from the cranky barkeep for being out so late with a baby.

Shogo wailed as his mom undid his straps. Awoken from his comfy slumber, he obviously wasn’t ready for the ride to be over. Mattias sympathised with the little guy.

‘Don't cry, Sho,’ his mother soothed. ‘We’ll have you warm and snuggled up in a bit. You don’t want Dr Holgersson remembering you with such a grumpy face, now, do you?’

Shogo obviously didn’t give a flying poop what the good doctor thought and let out another unhappy wail. He much preferred the smooth rocking of the warm car and the soothing sounds of low murmuring voices to the unwelcome cold outside.

With Shogo on her shoulder, Jubilee lifted the seat and turned around to find the Scot standing behind her. Ignoring the grimace on his mug, she sweetly asked: ‘Harry, can you take this for me?’

Holding out the car seat, Harry grumbled as he took it off her hands, allowing the young mother a better grip on her fussy infant.

Once Shogo was wrapped up warm and ready to go, she moved towards the driver’s side window. Mattias looked up as Jubilee lowered her face to his, and he noticed that even in the cold she emanated warmth.

‘I so owe you for tonight,’ she said.

He assured her that it was his pleasure.

‘I promise to totally make it up to you. Sho, say thank you to Dr Holgersson.’

The boy wiggled a small arm from under his tight wrappings, and Jubilee took his hand, waving it up and down in that puppeteer motion all parents do. Mattias reached for the chubby hand, and a tiny fist closed around his woolen pinky.

‘I’d better get him inside,” she said. ‘Thanks again!’

And with that Miss Jubilation Lee was gone, ushered into the bar by Harry as he bemoaned the ills of a world where children had babies and stayed out all night in the cold.

* * *

Next Time: Action as the X-Men encounter the mysterious Jersey Stalker...

 


	5. Greetings from Asbury Park

Housekeeping: Ok... I’ll admit it - I love torturing the good doctor. ;)

Another week, another chapter...

* * *

Arriving at his parents’ house after dropping off the Lees, Mattias was met by a surprised but delighted Nora Holgersson. The German woman often complained she rarely saw her son now that he was as a hotshot science guy in the big city.

‘Yeah, a big hotshot,’ he snorted, dismissing her. ‘So big I can’t even afford to take a few days off. Face it, Mom, I’ll spend the rest of my days teaching second-year math to a bunch of overprivileged yuppies.’

The doctor knew that lecturing was a necessary evil that came with being an academic. The pursuit of original science was its own reward in many ways, but it didn’t pay for his apartment, gas or those delectable apple danishes from Marnie’s on 105th Street.

Yet while he despised his current career direction, his parents loved to boast that their boy, at only 25, was on his way to becoming a tenured professor at an Ivy League university. Although his dad did admit to worrying that, while Mattias was a mathematics savant, his sparse love life wasn’t bringing him or Nora any closer to being grandparents.

‘Pia and Liesel will have three sets of triplets _each_ before you even have _one_ steady girlfriend,’ Lukas Holgersson often teased his son.

Asking after his twins sisters, Mattias was disappointed to find that they where away on some school leadership retreat and wouldn’t be home all weekend. At sixteen, Pia and Liesel were adept social butterflies, enjoying life among a wide circle of friends in a way their older brother never did. Yet even though he tended to frown at their boisterous behaviour, he dearly loved the giggling twosome, and secretly envied their carefree nature.

Indeed, surrounded by the knick-knacks of his own childhood, the smells of his mom’s culinary experiments and the sounds of the his dad’s rusty lathe spinning in the shed, he felt more at ease then he had in months. Unwilling to confront the stacks of uncorrected papers that awaited him back in the city, Mattias decided to stay for the whole weekend.

And he was even enjoying his slight reprieve from his everyday chores, until Sunday night, when his body started to feel unnaturally cold and numb, a sensation he couldn’t shake no matter how high he turned the thermostat.

Come Monday morning, Nora, fearing her baby was coming down with something awful, send Mattias on his way with a gigantic flask of thick yellow split pea soup.

‘This will have you ready as Spain in no time.’

Mattias cringed; his mother’s grasp of her adopted tongue was mostly flawless, but idioms were a dragon she refused to tame. Worse, he was convinced she did it just to annoy him.

The rest of his morning was spent trapped in gridlock, he arrived at Columbia just in time for his first class – so late, in fact, that he didn’t even have time to go through the usual motions with his nemesis on the blackboard.

Mattias wasn’t surprised to see his class near empty. Monday morning lectures in winter were always under-attended, with most students choosing to sleep in rather than slog it out in the bitter cold.

With so few students, Mattias instantly noticed the empty spot where Miss Lee should have been. Say what you want about the girl’s grades, but she never missed a class.

The next hour dragged. Mattias had misplaced his normal teaching rhythm, and there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that would just not go away.

_Maybe mom was right and I am coming down with something?_ he thought, gratefully sinking into his office chair after class.

That hollow, cold feeling haunted him through the rest of the afternoon, and all day Tuesday, and even Wednesday morning – at which point he gave in and did what he should’ve done on Monday.

Having never been anywhere near the Schermerhorn Building, he stopped the most eccentric looking student he passed on the quad and asked for directions, figuring only someone who looked like that would know their way around the humanities departments.

The stroll down to the classic brownstone was pretty educational, at least. Who would’ve guessed that there was life outside of Pupin Hall?

Arriving on the fourth floor in Schermerhorn, Mattias had to admit he was impressed, and the tiniest bit jealous. The Psych Department lobby was an airy welcoming affair, with comfy stuffed chairs on which, the physicist imagined, students lounged around arguing the finer points of Freud versus Jung.

‘Can I help you?’

He turned to find a short, portly older woman grinning up at him expectantly. Her hair was a mess of neon streaks and butterfly clips.

‘No, I’m fine,’ he blurted, caught off guard, but quickly followed with a stuttered ‘wait… yes… actually…’

‘Well, aren’t _you_ ever the decisive one,’ the woman purred through her pink glossed lips. ‘A perfect textbook example of aboulomania if I ever saw one.’

‘Abou-what?’

‘A disorder characterised by a severe inability to make decisions. I’m reading Walter Shani’s book on it right now; such fascinating stuff.’

He should’ve guessed: enter the Psych Department and get a free diagnosis.

‘With all due respect, I didn’t come here to be psychoanalysed.’

‘No need to get all uppity with me, young man. You’re the one displaying signs of an intermittent explosive episode’ – she lowered her voice to grave whisper – ‘If you become violent I’ll have to call security.’

‘Wait? What!? No! That’s crazy,’ he stuttered.

‘We prefer the term _mentally eccentric_ ,’ said Butterfly Clips solemnly.

‘Look, I just came up here to ask after one of your undergrads.’

Butterfly Clips straightened upright in an instant. ’Well why didn’t you just say so?’ The purring notes were gone; now she was all business.

‘I’ve been trying to,’ muttered Mattias through gritted teeth. ‘The student’s name is Jubilation Lee, she’s a freshman. I was wondering if someone could tell me if she has any classes today?’

‘And why would you need to know that? Are you stalking the poor girl? I know…’ – she paused for dramatic effect – ’you’re a jilted ex-lover on a ruinous path of _revenge_.’

Did just being a member of the Psych Department drive people crazy?

’No, I’m Dr Mattias Holgersson…’

‘Oooh, a doctor,’ Butterfly Clips interrupted. ‘How nice for you.’

Mattias took a deep, calming breath and tried again. ‘I’m faculty at the Physics Department. Miss Lee is one of my second-year students. She’s missed three classes this week. I just wanted to check if everything’s alright.’

‘Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ Butterfly Clips was purring again. ‘I’m sure Mandy has some freshman classes this semester; she’s the one you’ll want to talk to.’

Luckily for Mattias, Mandy Prince was not only more sane than Butterfly Clips, but actually a great help. The friendly lecturer hadn’t recognised Jubilation’s name, but did remember seeing the girl Mattias described in her theory class.

Following that, a quick search of the student database revealed that a Dr McCoy had phoned Miss Lee’s course director to explain her absence. According to the note in her file, Jubilation had suffered a badly bruised ankle and a broken arm after slipping on some ice, but Dr McCoy indicated that his patient would be back on her feet in a week or so.

‘She broke an arm and bruised an ankle from a simple slip?’ Mattias pondered out loud.

‘Probably a freak accident,’ said Butterfly Clips with little surprise in her voice. ‘My sister once broke every bone in her right foot. A hippo ran over it.’

Disturbed at the notion of Butterfly Clips sharing more on the hippo incident, Mattias made a quick exit, vowing never to darken to halls of the Schermerhorn Building every again.

Back again in the safety of his cupboard-sized office, Mattias, though still slightly unsettled, felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Meanwhile, in Westchester County, a young mother was crying herself to sleep.

* * *

**Three Days Earlier, Sleep Eazy Motel, Asbury Park, New Jersey, 10:00pm**

Jubilee didn’t flinch or even really mind when that freezing hand was stuffed down her modest cleavage and then up the back of her cheap low-cut mini-dress. But there was the issue of basic boundaries.

‘Geez, Iceman,’ she said, glaring at her teammate. ‘You think you could warn a girl? Maybe heat that puppy up first.’

‘Sorry, Jubes,’ the X-Man said sheepishly, and the hand weaving the near invisible wire around her body warmed ever so slightly.

Roberto let out a snicker from across the room. ‘Come on Jubilee, that’s just how Drake normally handles his dates.’

Not in the mood to rise to the former New Mutant’s bait, Iceman simply smirked up at Jubilee, his grey eyes morphing into pools of clear ice. A moment later, Sunspot yelped as the sofa under him froze solid. Bobby gave Jubes a cheeky wink.

‘Oh you’re so gonna pay for…’

Wolverine’s bark suddenly filled the room.

‘Sunspot! Iceman! Stop foolin’ around! You’re X-Men, try acting like it.’

There was a muttering of apologies; everyone wanted to avoid pissing off the prickly Canadian any more. The man had a hornet stuck up his ass ever since Gambit arrived home late on Saturday night with his news.

According to the thief’s informant, someone was snatching young prostitutes from a pier on the Jersey Shore, and the police didn’t seem to give a damn as girl after girl simply vanished into the night. Was it just because these girls were the forgotten dredges of society or, as the informant suspected, also mutants?

What’s worse was that these disappearances – perpetrated by what the media has christened the ‘Jersey Stalker’ – were escalating. What started with one Beth Nichols vanishing two months after MJ Eddowes had now grown more frequent, with the latest victims, young Annie Stride and Carlie Chaplin, disappearing just a week apart. It seemed that the Stalker, who ever he or she was, had a taste for it, and now had to be stopped. A job Wolverine decided the X-Men would do.

The plan was simple. Tabitha, Jubilee and Paige would be the bait, prancing around the pier till the Stalker bit. Remy, to his disgust, had to made ‘arrangements’ with the local pimps keep their own younger ‘merchandise’ off the market for the next few nights.

Wolverine eyed the three young X-Women as Iceman started to mike an uncomfortable Husk. The listening device element was a variable Logan hated, but with Psylocke and Rachel both in England searching for a new mutant, it would have to do.

Still, Logan was proud of the way the girls were holding up. Dressed in as little as they were, he hoped they didn’t freeze before they caught the worthless S-O-B. Insulated uniforms hidden by image inducers would have been an option in any other circumstance, but with temperatures plummeting, Hank feared the sensitive liquid plasma that powered the inducers would solidify in the cold. An oversight the genius planned on correcting with the next upgrade.

‘Can we just get going already?’ said Jubilee, self-consciously tugging at the hem of the tight red skirt, her short seventeen-year-old body making her the likeliest to pass for a young teen, as long no one noticed her abnormally pale skin and sunken cheeks.

When was the last time she had a drink, Logan wondered. Two days ago, maybe? The vampire had stayed up with him and Gambit most of Saturday night as they poured over clues and plans, bringing them coffee and sandwiches and even making some minor suggestions of her own.

Opening the motel’s grubby mini-bar, Logan pulled out the flask he’d stored there hours earlier and handed it to his frequent sidekick, who took it with some reluctance.

‘You know, Wolvie, you could at least warm it up. Maybe added a pinch of cinnamon? It’s plain gross like this.’

‘Trust me, kid, the whole thing is gross, whether I nuke it or not.’

Noticing that frown her craggy mentor was sporting, deeper than usual, Jubilee, if only out of her sense of self-preservation, decided not push him into finding a microwave – and drowned the entire unappetising contents of the bottle in one practiced gulp.

Pig’s blood. Even as she felt it work its magic, it still repulsed her.

‘The blood of an animal,’ Raizo had instructed, ‘is not something to be sipped or savoured, Jubilation. Stomach it as fast as you can, before the demon rejects it.’

Wiping a few errant drops from her chin, she handed the flask back to Logan without a word. The Wolverine was both revolted by and relieved to see the girl’s rounded cheeks were now stained with a healthy rosy blush.

* * *

**East Branch Pier, Asbury Park New Jersey, 11:53pm**

The eerie wail of a foghorn somewhere in the distance sent shivers crawling up Jubliee’s spine. It was a knee-jerk reaction, like jumping at a predictable scare in a corny slasher flick.

Jubilee inhaled a lung full of cold fishy air and tried to calm her nerves the way the Professor had taught her.

Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out. In. Out.

The superhero in her knew she was being silly. Though obscured in the fog at the end of the pier as a steady stream of cars slowly passed, she knew Logan and the other X-Men were tracking her every move. Logically, help was a just a radio call away. But as much as she hated to admit it, after two hours the cold and fog, and the nature of the job, was starting to get to her.

Glancing up the old pier, Jubilee resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Boom-Boom had really taken to enterprise, literally skipping up to the waiting cars. The Virginian wildchild had no shame. Not caring how many senior X-Men or ex-boyfriends were listening in, the carefree rebel inhabited her role as underage harlot like she was born to do it, discussing positions, fetishes and pricing with professional ease and nary a blush. If the Academy had been was watching, Tabitha’s performance would’ve made even Meryl Streep nervous.

‘Boom-Boom’ – a slightly strangled Kentuckian voice crackled through Jubilee’s tiny earpiece – ‘y’think ya could tone it down a bit?’

‘Why, Cannie love?’ an overly husky voice replied. ‘You never complained when we dated.’

There was a round of stifled giggles, and Jubilee didn’t need to be on the other side to know Sam Guthrie was probably wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Up on the roof of an abandoned warehouse on the shore, Wolverine watched as his protégé did her best keep up with Boom-Boom, negotiating with johns and sussing them out before handing them over to one of the regular girls, pretending not to like the offered rate.

Listening in on these dealings, the laconic loner bit down hard on the end of his Cuban cigar, fighting the urge to gut every slimy asshole that drove near the girls with the window down, as if they were ordering Mickey D’s at the drive-through.

What these unfortunates didn’t know was that Logan was diligently writing down every license plate on every vehicle that rolled by. See how they like it when the cops pay their cosy suburban homes a visit in the morning, bub.

‘Someone remind me to bleach my mind when we’re done here,’ Husk’s voice crackled over the wire as she stepped away from another car window.

‘You doin’ just fine, cherie,’ Gambit reassured her. Of the three, Paige was having the hardest time sticking to the agreed script. She was a good X-Man, but a pretty crappy actress, and the Cajun hoped the scumbag johns would assume the Southerner was just a nervous rookie.

On previous stakeouts, Remy had made a habit of finding a nice dark spot with a pillar he could lean on, lighting a spicy Gauloise and appearing devilishly mysterious. Unfortunately, Cecelia would have his butt in a sling if he even thought of lighting anything. Ah, the perils of dating a former ER resident. She just didn’t seem to understand that there was a certain _style_ to doing these things. How else was he supposed to keep up his reputation as a roguish scoundrel?

But the thief was committed to making this thing they had work, even if he lost some clout in the process. At least she hadn’t said anything thing about his bike.

With a sigh, he shoved his itchy fingers into the deep pockets of his brown duster and tried to settle in for the evening. It just felt so unnatural.

His patented brooding was interrupted by a cacophony of rattling metal and coughing exhaust. It was emanating from an ailing pea-green Volkswagen van that creaked its way down the pier.

A green Volkswagen... one of Beth Nichols’ fellow working girls had sworn she saw a green bus driving away from the scene the night her friend disappeared.

As it spluttered passed him, Gambit pulled the collar of his duster closer and reported in: ‘Green van comin’ down, windows are blacked out. Can’t see the driver.’

‘I see it, Cajun,’ replied Logan from his rooftop perch. ‘Iceman, Cannonball, Sunspot, get ready. Boom-Boom, you take this one. Husk and Jubilee, watch her back. Remember the plan. We take this guy down fast.’

It took the van a good few moments to rattle its way down the pier. As it grinded to a halt, all the usual working girls moved away, pretending to have better things to do.

All except for Tabitha Smith. She was ready for it, sauntering seductively to the driver’s side, one hand innocently tucked behind her back, concealing a glowing explosive orb.

The window rolled down as she approached, and it took a second before the blonde’s eyes adjusted to the darkness inside.

Suddenly she jumped back with a shriek lunged at her from the darkness of the van. The sheer size of the thing, whatever it was, forced her to the ground as it settled on her chest.

From every direction the rest of the X-Men rushed to aid their teammate - only to find a tiny Latino lady fruitlessly trying to pull a delighted St Bernard off a flailing Boom-Boom.

‘Can someone get this thing off me!’ she yelled as the dog swiped her face with his fleshy tongue.'

After they’d untangled the poor girl from her enthusiastic new friend, Mr Bumbrils, his owner explained that she was a social worker checking up on the usual girls. Mr Bumbrils was her bodyguard.

‘One can never be too careful with all this craziness,’ the old woman said as she lovingly patted the slobbering monster’s massive black head.

Sending the pair on their way, the superheroes settled back in for the evening. Another uneventful hour passed, and the fog was growing slowly thicker. Much to Logan’s annoyance it was becoming more and more difficult to see the X-Women from atop the shoreline warehouse. Wolverine instructed the three to stay under the streetlights. If the weather didn’t improve soon, he knew they’d be forced to call it a night.

In the distance, Jubilee dutifully paced up and down under the fading pool of light. Lucky for her, the worsening weather had mostly dried up the stream of sedans that passing by, leaving the pier now mostly deserted bar a few regulars.

Another cry from that ghostly distant foghorn drew her attention and she stepped slightly closer to the edge of the pier.

It was then that she first smelled it. At first she nearly dismissed it; the fumes from the dirty seawater stank of the usual rotting fish and mildew, but buried beneath that pungent aroma there was a faint hint of something. Something the vampire in her instantly recognised - and craved.

Blood. Human blood.

Instinctively she turned to check the pier road. It appeared the same. In the fog she could just about make out the last working girls packing it in for the evening, and up at their respective lights the figures of Boom-Boom and Husk. Not a soul was out of place. Was her nose playing tricks on her? Maybe the last few days of fasting hadn’t been such a good idea.

‘You OK, kid?’ Wolverine’s voice growled softly in her ear.

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, squinting up the pier, straining to see further into the rolling fog. The slightest breeze from the water blew across the pier and instinctively the vampire turned her face towards it. This time the scent of blood was stronger. Closer.

‘Umm… guys? I think we might have something here.’

From his perch, closest to Jubliee, Iceman scanned the pier below for the any sign of danger. ‘Things look clear from up here, Jubes.’

Another wisp of wind made her turn back towards the water. She could just discern the faint shape of a lone bell buoy bobbing off the pier. To the naked eye nothing else moved except the ebb and flow of the dark water.

‘Things aren’t always what they seem – focus.’ The White Queen’s familiar icy voice warned in her head, not from the hidden earpiece but the corners of her memory.

_OK, time to focus,_ she thought to herself, _something’s fishy here and it’s not just the Jersey Shore_.

Closing her eyes, Jubilee slowly inhaled as much of the moist air as her lungs would allow, trying to find the source of the scent. Under the rotting musk of seaweed, she found it again. It was faint, but definitely coming from the water.

Hoping to get a better view, Jubilee edged closer to the side of the pier.

‘Stay under the damn light!’ Wolverine barked through her the earpiece as she bent over to inspect the water lapping against the aged wood.

Suddenly the smell was all around her, nearly choking her. She opened her mouth, ready to call out, and then it grabbed her – something wet and slippery wrapping around her ankles and throat, yanking her from the pier and down to the dark depths below.

 

* * *

 

Next time: The Jersey Stalker...

 


	6. Fell on Black Days

_**Housekeeping**_ \- Story: You’ll notice I’ve taken some liberties with the Forgiven and their ideology. While I love the idea of the Forgiven - I do feel Marvel could do more to make them interesting. So, as this fic continues I’ll be introducing more bits of my version. (No, this doesn’t mean it’ll be a vamp focused story in the future. This fic is still has a mystery at its core.)

This chapter is basically part one of chapter 6, I wanted to be back with Mattias and Jubes by now, but circumstances (see below) and an overworked beta prevented it. Don’t worry, we should have some Doc/Jubes action next week.

Oh and a reader asked about an odd little “thing” they noticed concerning the Doc and Jubes in the last chapter. Yes, that might just be on purpose…;o) (There might even be another “hint” in this very chapter.)

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The flight home was hushed. Only the low din of the Shi’ar engines hummed throughout the jet, and if anyone spoke it was only in a whisper. It was an unspoken tradition, this silent vigil. Like a family keeping watch over one of their own.

As exhausted as the team was, no one slept on the way back. Their injured team-mate was a stark reminder that as rewarding and thrilling as wearing the X was, there was always the danger that someone you shared breakfast with, trained with, jeered the opposition with, might not be there the next morning.

Their vigil came to an end with the familiar whoosh of the Blackbird’s vertical thrusters disengaging and that slight bounce as the landing gear met the ground. They were home.

As the ramp lowered, the mutants were met by a concerned Ororo and Hank, who was pushing a gurney towards the jet. Wolverine was the last to step off the plane, and he noticed the usually radiant weather goddess had dark circles under her eyes, and that her companion’s fur appeared to have been hastily smoothed down.

Nodding to them in greeting, Logan did not step into Ororo’s welcoming embrace, instead laying the small bundle in his arms onto the gurney, taking care not to accidentally bump the sleeping vampire in case she woke.

As Hank began the lengthy process of checking vitals and fastening restraints, Storm turned the remaining mutants.

‘You did good work tonight. Go and rest.’

She wasn’t at all surprised to see Logan and Bobby pretend her dismissal order didn’t apply to them as they followed Beast into the emergency medical elevator.

Down in the medlab, as he locked Jubilee in a containment chamber, Hank said a silent prayer of thanks to Asclepius, the Greek god of doctors, when Logan didn’t protest. There was no doubt that the Canadian trusted and loved his protégé, but even he feared that in her current state she could pose a real threat to the students upstairs.

On her seventh cup of java into her night shift, Cecilia volunteered to wash and dress Jubilee – her years as an ER resident, not to mention her bio-forcefield powers, making her the perfect candidate in case the vampire woke.

* * *

 It was mid-afternoon when Jubilee finally stirred from her drug-induced coma. Her body felt sluggish, needing more time to work through the tranquilisers, before it could properly heal bruised organs and knit broken bones.

But the haze of drugs and pain couldn’t dampen the familiar sensations that were stirring deep inside, forgotten feelings that were like a glowing ember begging to be fuelled into a raging fire. Feelings waiting to seduce her with promises of excitement and heightened passions. All she had to do was completely submit to its seductive warmth.

It felt as if a part of her was being reborn, and if not for the sorry state of her body, Jubilee would have screamed, laughed, hollered and ran till her throat bled and her legs gave in.

She finally felt alive!

 But along with this rediscovered lightness of soul came another urge. One that was far more primal in nature, a growing gnawing hollowness that would soon need to be sated.

Stretching out on the bed, Jubilee opened her eyes and looked around the room. It was pretty barren; the only furniture was the bed she was in and a bedside table, upon which stood the one thing she craved more than anything else: a plastic bottle filled to the brim with thick, irony deliciousness.

She grabbed the bottle eagerly and, not bothering to open the cap, sank her sharp fangs into the side and sucked.

* * *

Watching from the observation booth, Hank McCoy felt his skin crawl. It wasn’t the way the vampire had downed the blood that caused it, but the utter enjoyment with which she drank.

The girl in the containment room was a stranger. She looked like the firecracker, but it wasn’t her. It was as if Jubilation Lee had step out of her body and something alien had moved in.

Next to the blue doctor was a dishevelled, sleep-deprived Bobby Drake, whose slim shoulders slumped at the sight.

‘Well, she went straight for the blood,’ he said, the disappointment in his voice palpable. ‘What do we do now? She’s obviously gone full… well… you know…’

Unable to bring himself to say the word, he made a fang-like gesture with his fingers, before shoving his hands into his pockets.

 ‘For now Logan’s blood should placate her desire to feed,’ said Hank, as he tried to rub an elusive spot from his glasses with his handkerchief, before plopping them back on his nose. ‘It should suppress some of her more… aggressive inclinations.’

They fell silent once more as they watched the girl wipe the last drops of blood from her mouth with the edge of her cotton scrubs.

When she was first turned, Jubilee had survived on a steady diet of Logan’s blood for months, depending on its miraculous X-factor to keep the predator at bay. The mutated haemoglobin had worked like a charm, but she was a shadow of her former self, her once sparkling personality dulled.

Standing apart from Hank and Bobby, Logan’s eyes bore holes into the reinforced two-way glass that separated him from his surrogate daughter.

‘I’ll phone Raizo, hear if he’s willin’ to come talk her down,’ he muttered around a Cuban cigar.

Bobby saw, trapped between Logan’s white knuckles, the unmistakable thin leather strap of Jubilee’s wooden Forgiven Cross. The night before, Cecilia had wordlessly handed it to Wolverine after gently prying it off the vampire’s pale skin, where it had left a black cross-shaped brand. The remaining X-Men all knew what that mark meant in theory, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

As a member of the vampire sect known as The Forgiven, Jubilee should have been immune to the cross. A symbol of grace, crosses only burned Forgiven vampires who willingly strayed from their path. But now, after three years, it appeared Jubliee had finally stumbled and given into her baser nature.

The risk had always been there, of course. Raizo, the Forgiven’s leader, didn’t offer a cure to those who chose to join his sect, but rather a drastic change of lifestyle. Most vampires didn’t survive the first month on Raizo’s radical restrictive diet, the lack of human blood driving most over the edge.

‘The first few days, I begged Raizo to let Visigoth stake me,’ Jubilee had said, confiding in Bobby in a rare quiet moment soon after her return to the X-Men. ‘It was like quitting heroin cold turkey. I would’ve done anything to make it stop.’

It was the dead of night, and not in the mood for sleeping, they had snuck onto the school’s roof. It’s must’ve been freezing out, but neither of them cared. When they were younger, they’d spent a lot of time together on that roof, whether planning their latest prank or comparing notes on life as the youngest X-Men. He’d preferred to lay back and gaze at the stars while she, usually on a sugar high, would tumble and bounce around the roof tiles, not caring that they were four storeys from the ground.

That particular night, though, she had curled up next to him with one arm outstretched upwards, tracing the outlines of the constellations with her fingers.

‘Was it worth it, though?’ he’d asked, hoping she’d give him the answer he wanted.

‘What?’ she quipped. ‘Not having to follow Logan around like a hungry puppy or my newfound ability to accessorise with an ultra-swanky cross?’

She paused her tracing of Orion’s belt to tap the small wooden symbol around her neck.

He rolled his eyes at her. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.

‘I’m here, aren’t I? I might not be the firecracker anymore, but I’m also not some mindless junkie. I’m all me. Will a part of me always miss the thrill of the chase, the way the world glows right after?’ – she turned to him and her red eyes shone bright in the moonlight – ‘Maybe, but I’ve found something a million times better to live for and I’m never going back.’

‘And that is?’

Her reply was one word: ‘Shogo.’

* * *

After her snack, Jubilee felt the world grow foggier. The saturated colours she’d perceived before were now dim and faded.

She didn’t get a chance to ponder this new development as the door to the containment chamber slid open and a tetchy Wolverine stalked in. To Jubilee’s dismay, her only route of escape locked firmly behind the craggy loner.

Logan didn’t greet her, instead leaning against the chamber’s smooth metal walls, arms folded, eyeing his protégé warily.

As the silence stretched out between them, his steely gaze was fixed on her. The Wolverine was making a point. It was a challenge, a subtle reminder that he was the alpha in the room.

Annoyed at his almost smug defiance, Jubilee let out a low snarl, pulling back her lips so he could get a real good look at her impressive dental work.

Logan snorted, unimpressed.

She snarled louder, and again he refused to rise to the bait. Frustrated, she grabbed the empty bottle at her feet, placed every drop of super-strength she had into the wind-up and hurled it at the short man’s head.

Logan didn’t even flinch as the bottle hit the wall an inch from his head and exploded, sending shards of bloody plastic flying everywhere.

If she were thinking clearly, Jubilee would’ve realised that a mutant with a healing factor and adamantium-laced bones had little to fear from blunt force trauma or plastic shrapnel.

‘You needta work on your aim, kid.’

‘I’m not your damn “kid”!’ she spat back, fully aware of how petulant she sounded.

‘You sure as hells actin’ like one.’

‘Isn’t there a redhead somewhere you should be trying to screw?’

The insult was meant to sting, to strike a sore spot. Jubilee had been around Logan long enough to know his weaknesses, which buttons to press to get a rise. But he’d been prepared for it. He knew she’d want to piss him off, hoping he’d fly off the handle into some rage. An angry, unstable animal was easy to control and the demon in her craved dominance. But Logan wasn’t planning on giving her the satisfaction, and she drew backwards in defeat.

‘How much of last night do you remember, kid?’

Jubilee’s eyes dropped to the floor as she tried to remember the night before. Digging through her distorted memories, what she found felt foreign and disconnected. Even worse was a bothersome thought hiding in the corner of her consciousness, urgently begging her to remember.

What it wanted her to remember Jubilee could not imagine, she chose to ignore it. But as she concentrated, one memory slowly started to become clearer, till its brightness eclipse everything else.

When Jubilee looked back up at Logan her red eyes were glowing with an unnatural brightness, and he didn’t need to ask to know what memory she was reliving. Her pixie-like face was twisted by joyous satisfaction and pure lust.

She was back in that pipe-lined room, sucking on the neck of the Jersey Stalker.

‘I called Raizo,’ said Logan, fighting to keep his voice and gaze steady. ‘He and the rest of the Forgiven will be here in a few days.’

Upon hearing that name, Jubilee recoiled from him as if she’d been slapped, guttural growls erupting from the back of her throat.

Was this creature really the girl he had sent out onto the pier less than 24 hours ago? Logan wasn’t so sure anymore.

‘Raizo and his damn rules,’ Jubilee hissed. ‘It’s like being stuffed in small box without air.’

‘You were fine with those rules yesterday mornin’, darlin’.’

‘I was a fool! Last night it felt like coming home. I was warm and awake for the first time in months…’ – her voice grew unnaturally earnest – ‘…everything was so bright, so loud, so alive…’

‘None of that’s real, kid. That’s the addiction talkin’. ’

‘How would you know? You never truly knew what it was like. Cyke and Nemesis took it from you and now you wanna take it from me again.’

Agitated, her words came in manic bursts: ‘The blood in that bottle… was your blood… you and your fuckin’ mutant blood… I hate it… and I HATE YOU!’

Fuelled by anger, Jubilee lunged at her friend talons-first, but was slowed by the mutant blood coursing through her system. Logan easily deflected her blows and threw her back on the bed.

When she moved to jump him again, the Canadian brawler extended his claws.

‘We both know I won’t hurt you, darlin’, but I can slow you down long enough for Raizo to drag your ass back from hell.’

Inching slowly backwards, Logan called for Hank to open the door. As it closed behind him, he could hear Jubliee pounding desperately on the reinforced metal.

* * *

True to his word, Raizo arrived a day and half later, with Visigoth and Inka in tow. Never one for meaningless small-talk the elder vampire turned down Ororo’s offer to rest after his and his companions’ long journey and asked to be shown immediately to his wayward student.

Jubilee’s containment cell was wrecked. The bed lay in pieces on the floor next to the limping side table, bed linen torn and strewn across the room. The walls were decorated with thousands of faint scratches and splatters of blood.

In the middle of the chaos paced a greyish ghost-like Jubilee, her hair, an oily mess, her clothes close to falling apart.

‘This is not good,’ said Inka, shaking her cloaked head in disbelief from the relative safety of the observation booth. ‘She’s almost completely converted back.’

‘Yeah, kid’s been fighting us every step of the way,’ said Logan. ‘Rockslide and Drake had to hold her down to get some blood down her gullet. She nearly flew the coop yesterday, too, before I knocked some sense back into her.’

Sensing Logan’s faith in his surrogate daughter waiver ever so slightly, Inka rested a reassuring hand on his arm.

‘The path of a Forgiven is not always smooth and untroubled,’ she said. ‘At times we all falter. Jubilation might be a mere infant by our measure, but she is also strong of heart. It’s not how we fall that shapes us, but how we stand…’

‘That’s all well and good, Inka,’ Visigoth interrupted. ‘You just keep spouting that Hallmark crap, and let me handle it. Let’s see her try and stand after a taste of this.’

The brutish vampire opened his cloak aside to reveal his beloved mace.

The sudden sight of that spike weapon prompted Wolverine and Beast to surge forward – but Raizo moved between the X-Men and his second-in-command, raising his left hand to silence any protest.

‘I do not believe violence will be necessary in this case. Logan, did you bring what I ask for?’

With one cautionary eye on Visigoth and his mace, Logan reached into his breast pocket, pulling out something the others could not see to and handing it to the Forgiven leader.

‘Thank you. Now I believe it is about time I had a word with Jubilation.’

As Raizo entered the containment cell, Jubilee recoiled to the furthest corner of the room. Instinctively she raised her hands to paff the elder vampire – a reflex action in cases of extreme emotional distress.

Raizo could not help but grin at the infantile display. While he had never known her in her younger years, when she still possessed her mutant gift, he had heard the tales told by Madripoor Hand ninjas about a certain feral and his explosive sidekick.

‘Now Jubilation, we both know that particular tactic will not work.’

‘Stay away from me!’ she yelled as Raizo took a step towards her, and she tried to sink even further back into the corner.

‘There is no need to be alarmed. I will not hurt you.’

‘Screw you, I’m not letting you get into my head again.’

She pressed her hands to her ears, desperately trying to block out the siren sound of his voice.

Raizo took another step forwards. ‘I believe you have lost sight of your true path. This mindless thing is not you.’

‘It’s what I want to be. It’s what I was meant to be.’

Closer still he moved. ‘Maybe, but have you given any consideration as to what this might cost you?’

Jubilee screwed her eyes up tightly. ‘Cost? This won’t cost me anything. I’m taking back my birthright. I’m not some Twilight wannabe. I was sired by royal blood. You and your toothless, starving vermin stole that from me.’

‘Ah yes, forgive me, your majesty’ – Raizo dipped in a mocking bow – ‘I nearly forgot I was in the presence of royalty. Sired by the great son of Dracula himself. Tell me, how is Xarus faring these days?’

‘Screw you,’ she growled.

Raizo took one more step and was now standing right before her. Jubilee stifled the tiniest of whimpers as the demon inside her cowered in the presence of the elder statesman.

‘If you continue down this path, it is true that you will gain much: power, adoration, wealth. But I can promise you will lose something priceless.’

Jubilee closed her eyes tightly and for a moment she thought Raizo would try to touch her. She jerked back in anticipation, but instead she felt something land lightly at her bare feet.

When she dared sneak a peek, she saw that Raizo was already making his way towards the chamber door, without sparing a single glance over his shoulder as he left.

Tentatively, Jubliee reached out a thin, pale hand to pick up the small square paper Raizo had dropped. On one side of the glossy paper was written a place (Beach, SoCal) and a date (15 May 2014). She recognised Logan’s angular handwriting instantly.

Intrigued now, she turned the paper over to see the other side. It only took a second. She recoiled in horror at what she saw and dropped it as if it was poison.

Everyone in the observation booth, with the exception of Raizo and Logan, stared down in amazement as the rage-fuelled vampire crumbled before them, wrenching out soul-baring wails.

Hank moved to one of the monitors to get a better look, to see what had caused this sudden change in the girl. Zooming in on the paper, he wanted to kick himself for not having thought of that simple solution earlier. It was the only thing that could have brought her back from the brink.

There on the high-definition screen was a photo of a delighted Shogo gummily smiling at the camera as his mom held him close to her.

Hank started towards the door control, moving to comfort his young broken friend, but was stopped by Inka.

‘Give her a minute.’

Inside the chamber, the fog in Jubilee’s mind was now lifted, and she looked up at the observation booth for the first time since her imprisonment.

Her voice sounded unnaturally quiet as she whispered: ‘Raizo… help me, please…’

 


	7. Mothers, Daughters and Franz Listz

_**Housekeeping:**_ It’s official, I’ve managed to write the first OC fic, where the OC never appears...I blame Emma…I promise Mattias is still a part of this fic, but Jubes is dealing with some pretty bad stuff right now...It’s a journey people! ;) 

Oh and I have a favour to asked. Two years ago there was a Jubilee/Bobby fic on FF called “Entertain me” written by the same author who wrote “Times Change and We with Time”. Now I have copies of “Entertain Me” and most of “Times Change and We with Time” saved for the OHXFFA, but I can’t find a copy of Entertain Me’s brilliant sequel or the last few chapters of TCAWWT anywhere. The author sadly has also gone AWOL. If anyone has a copy of either or even just a part of them. PLEASE send it to me, I really want to save these. You’ll totally get kudos on the archive once it’s up and running.

* * *

 

With Raizo now in charge of the situation, what followed was many months of intensive vampire therapy condensed into just two weeks of tears and soul-searching. Hank and Logan had argued for a more leisurely pace, but the steadfast Forgiven leader insisted that the sooner Jubilee returned to her normal daily routine, the faster the allure of the addiction would fade.

 So involved were Jubilee’s sessions that even as he slept, the elder vampire’s calm Bohemian voice echoed in her dreams. She was starting to wonder if there was any place one could hide from a motivated Raizo.

 As the therapy started to have a positive effect, Jubilee felt the need to feed slowly fade away. This allowed Hank to reduce the quantity of Logan’s blood she drank each day and switch her back to synthesized haemoglobin. She felt like a baby being weaned from the bottle.

 After the first week the euphoric, runaway-train sensation dwindled and in its place settled a familiar sense of self. Growing confident that the young vampire had a certain amount of control over her “urges”, Hank felt it was safe to allow her to leave the containment chamber for short periods, as long as she was accompanied by one of the Forgiven.

The doctor had expected the naturally outgoing firecracker to welcome this new development, anxious to be she’d be reunited with her son. But Jubilee seemed unwilling to leave the safety of her cell. No longer a hostage of her baser nature, the returning clarity meant dealing with matters she would have rather avoided.

Like the overwhelming regret and shame she felt over the death of the Jersey Stalker. Yes, he had been a murderous psychopath, but X-Men don’t kill. Cyclops and Storm might have looked the other way as X-Force assassinated people for the greater good, but Charles Xavier had ingrained in Jubilee a strict, at times even narrow, moral code: X-Men don’t kill; the ends do not justify the means.

She drifted off to sleep with that thought running through her mind. When she opened her eyes a few hours later, the comforting walls of the containment cell where gone, and so was everything else.

Around her the world was an empty black void. She able to stand, though she knew there was no ground beneath her feet. The place was devoid of light, temperature and life.

It took a moment for her sleepy mind to realise where she was. A world without reality or substance, where Newtonian physics were mere suggestions: the Astral Plane.

‘Oh for funk’s sake, I really don’t need this right now!’ Jubilee shouted out into the void. It did not answer back.

Knowing she’d be stuck there for a while, and with nothing better to do, Jubilee picked a random direction and started walking. She knew it didn’t really matter whether she moved or not, because there was nothing to amble towards, but it helped to feel like she was doing something. Until whatever or whoever had brought her there decided to show itself, she was a permanent guest.

Boredom was just starting to set in when Jubilee heard faint music in the distance. Someone was expertly playing a gypsy-esque tune on a piano. Listening more intently, Jubilee tried to remember where she had heard it before. Something from her childhood, maybe?

As a youngster she’d spend many hours playing at her cellist mother’s feet as she practiced for performances. Was this the same oddball tune her mom had complained never sounded right on a cello? Jennifer Lee had loved the melody, but hated the orchestral arrangement for cellists that lacked the speed and liveliness of the original piano version.

The title was on the tip of her tongue… and then she heard her mother’s ghostly voice whisper it in her ear: ‘Liszt… Hungarian Rhapsody No 2.’

She knew it was an illusion created by the astral plane, but still, hearing her dead mother’s voice so clear made her blood run cold. A large part of her want to flee far away from the cheerfully haunting music, even as she forced herself to go towards it.

As Jubilee felt herself getting closer to the origin of the music, the spectral world around her started to take form out of the black. The darkness above her filled with stars, a full moon appeared behind some clouds and the nothingness on which she was walking was now a lonely, icy road lined with snow-covered trees.

As the music grew steadily louder, the familiar outline of a wrought iron gate appeared before her.

The gate wasn’t locked, a clear sign that none of what she was experiencing was real. The last time she had seen this gate it was fastened shut by the most secure electronic lock money could buy.

Beyond the gate, a large redbrick building materialised, and in its lit windows she could make out the shapes of silhouetted figures moving inside. Though she knew they were just part of the illusion, Jubilee couldn't help but pick up her pace, anxious to reach the building’s façade.

To her annoyance, a porch light brightly lit the steps leading up to the entrance. It shouldn’t have. One too many random explosions had left the building’s wiring in a sorry state, and no matter how studiously it was rebuilt over the years, the porch light always burned out in the colder months. Jubilee threw it a disgusted look, and as if it could sense her thoughts, the light duly extinguished itself.

She climbed the steps and paused at the front door, running a hand along the heavy cherry wood and listening for the voices she could now detect just above the piano melody. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the door and waited.

And as if she’d willed it, the volume of the piano lowered, and the other voices quietened as one young male voice shouted above them, something indiscernible in a faint Midwestern accent. It was followed a moment later by a different masculine voice swearing and muttering back in a foreign tongue.

Listening to the two friends bicker good-naturedly, Jubilee felt a knot form in her throat and she struggled to bite back bitter tears. She longed to stay and listen, but knew that was impossible. Taking a deep breath, she straightened, mentally pulled herself back together and pushed open the door to Xavier’s Massachusetts Academy, Snow Valley.

Jubilee wasn’t all that surprised to find that beyond the door was just another black hole. Somehow she had known the owners of the phantom voices wouldn’t be waiting for her on the other side.

Behind her, Franz Liszt's tune echoed eerily once more, louder and closer than before. Whipping around, she found the front door had vanished and in its place was the school’s spiral staircase.

Having seen much weirder things growing up X, she climbed the stairs without giving their sudden appearance a second thought. At the top, the carpeted hallway of the girl’s dormitory appeared, even though the dorm hadn’t been housed in the main building. Shaking her head at the inconsistency of astral-ecto space, Jubilee made her way down the hallway.

It seemed to go on forever, stretching far off into the darkness. At first she tried opening the closed doors that lined both sides, but most were either locked or opened onto dead space.

As the lost girl wandered on, she noticed the music in the air never seemed to end or even reach its famous crescendo. Someone was expertly weaving together the different parts of the recognisable melody into a new, complex whole.

The existence of the piano was strange in itself. Everything she had seen so far, as distorted as it was, had been part of the original academy years before. But the school had never needed a piano, and any music heard in the building either blared from an iPod or drifted from up from boy’s dorms in the basement as Jono practiced angst-filled punk ballads on his Gibson.

Distracted by her thoughts, Jubliee nearly smacked her face into the garishly decorated door that materialised before her. She recognised it instantly. Monet had spend days bemoaning the boy band posters and stickers Jubilee had glued to its expensive wood.

This time the world did not give way as she opened the door. Jubilee was forced to squint as her sensitive eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming in from the window on her left.

She was back in her old dorm in Massachusetts, but it was much larger – Jubilee was pretty sure she never had a self-playing baby grand in the corner. Everything else, though, was just as she had left it on the morning the human students had burned it all to the ground.

As much as she wanted to jump on her old bed and rifle through the knick-knacks of her childhood, it was the woman rocking a napping Shogo in her arms that interested her more.

Emma Frost spared her student an aloof glance and continued rocking the boy. ‘I tried Brahms’ Lullaby, but he seems to prefer this,’ she said, referring to the much softer version of the Hungarian Rhapsody the piano was playing.

‘What do you want, Frosty?’

For the most part, Jubilee was unconcerned that the former matriarch of the Hellfire Club was holding her son. While Emma was the kind of woman you wouldn’t leave your husband alone with, she’d dive into boiling lava to save a child.

‘Me? I’m just checking in on Shogo.’

‘Shogo’s fine.’

‘That’s not what a little birdie told me,’ the White Queen said as she smiled fondly at the boy in her arms.

‘Wolvie is gonna freak when he finds out Hellion is spying for you.’

‘Spying is such a nasty word. I prefer to think of it as staying abreast of current events. Julian is merely relaying minor topics of interest. Am I not allowed to check up on my student and her son? I do regret that this current unpleasantness between Scott and Logan has prevented me from meeting Shogo until now.’

Jubilee stared up at the much taller woman in disbelief. ‘Unpleasantness? “Fearless Leader” murdered the Professor.’

At the reminder of her former lover’s crimes, the White Queen’s eyes blitzed daggers for a split second, before her cool persona settle in once more.

‘You should be more careful when condemning others, Jubilation. Need I remind you that if it wasn’t for Scott Summers you would have been staked right along with your little boyfriend Xarus.’

‘Firstly, Cyke just hated that Dracula had something of his. Secondly, I’m not your damn student anymore. And thirdly, you’ve checked in, everything’s fine, now do me a favour and check the hell out.’

‘I would, but I prefer to stay and see how this is ends.’

An antique crib appeared next to the baby grand and Emma gently laid the sleeping child in it.

‘How what ends?’

‘This new little vampire drama of yours. It’s no secret that you’re hiding in the basement. People tend to gossip.’

Not willing to admit Emma’s intel was correct, Jubilee stood by her son’s crib and fussed with his blankets, avoiding the other woman’s knowing gaze. Hoping to the distract Emma, she waved a hand around the room.

‘So all of this? Are you doing it or am I?’

‘A little of both. The psy-link I’ve created between us is easier to maintain if the environment is familiar to both of us. I might have created the world, but your memories aid in solidifying the illusion, colouring in the details. I could, of course, do it on my own, but it would require a considerable amount of concentration.’

Satisfied that Shogo was a comfortable as he was ever going to be, Jubilee started to inspect the contents of the room, digging around drawers, paging through old sketchbooks and occasionally picking up a long-forgotten toy.

Emma let Jubilee have her moment, as the head of Frost Enterprises knew when someone was trying to avoid her, but she was also hesitant to push her former student, who had a habit of reacting in unexpected ways when cornered.

Then again, if it was left up to the vampire, they might be stuck in the Astral Plane for a very long time.

‘As I see it, Jubilation, there are two possible outcomes to your current situation,’ said Emma abruptly. ‘After you leave here, you can either get up, get dressed, slap a smile on and be a responsible parent to that baby boy. Or you can disappoint me and use that stake Visigoth slipped you when Raizo wasn’t looking. It’s hidden under the mattress, I believe. How very original of you.’

To Emma’s relief the there was no outburst, no explosion of temper. Instead the girl simply sank down on her old dorm bed and picked up one of the many photo frames that stood on the nightstand. Each photo was a frozen moment of a happier time, a more innocent time.

When Jubilee finally spoke, Emma had to strain to hear her for the quietness of her voice.

‘You think this is easy?’ Jubilee whispered. ‘You think I can just forget and go on with my life like nothing happened?’

‘No, that’s not what I believe. For someone like you, I believe walking away from what happened in that sewer is incredibly difficult.’

‘Someone like me?’ Jubilee asked, dumbfounded.

‘Don’t play dumb with me, dear, you know what I mean’ – still seeing the utter confusion in the girl’s red eyes, Emma filled in the blank – ‘someone who believes they’re one of the good guys.’

‘I am one of the good guys.’

‘No, you’re definitely not,’ said Emma, with a sly smile on her perfect glossed lips. ‘Having had to endure teaching you for three years, I can honestly say that you, Jubilation, have never been a poster child for good behaviour.’

Slamming the frame she held hard on the nightstand, the firecracker’s cool veneer cracked.

‘OK, so I haven’t always been a saint, but I’ve spend nearly every day of my life since I was thirteen training to be an X-Man, and I’m not about to be lectured on ethics by a former member of the Hellfire Club!’

Used to these bursts of temper, Emma let the wave of anger she could feel through their temporary psy-link wash over her. The telepath had hit a nerve, and she was oddly pleased with that development. Anger proved there was still some fight left in the girl.

‘You and I are a lot alike,’ Emma explained. ‘We're the subtle shade of grey between dewy-eyed saints like Jean Grey and evil monsters like the Jersey Stalker.’

‘Don’t you dare say bad thing about Jeannie. She would've found another way to stop the Stalker. She would never have done what I did.’

‘What is it you think you did, exactly?’

And for the first time Jubilee said out loud the words that haunted her dreams: ‘I murdered a man.’

Emma shook her platinum locks. ‘No, you stopped a monster who was about to rape and murder you.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Jubliee growned back through gritted teeth. ‘I’m an X-Man. We don’t just kill people.’

‘Ah yes, I forgot Charles Xavier taught every X-Man to be a good little martyr. You’re right about one thing, though: Jean Grey would not have killed the Stalker, but she would have ended up in the morgue raped and murdered.’

Jubilee, still seething, was not willing to admit there was some truth to Emma’s words.

Glancing down at frames on the bedside table, Emma’s pale blue eyes scanned the collection of X-faces. Some where stunning in their beauty, others were remarkable in their oddness, but even among this unique menagerie, one young man stood out from the crowd.

‘I lost Sync, an omega mutant, because he sacrificed himself for a bunch of brats. Does anyone other than us even remember him?’

‘It doesn’t matter who remembers him,’ said Jubliee. ‘Everett died a hero.’

‘And because of that we’ll never know what else he was capable of. Everett Thomas was a brilliant young man; he had the brains, looks and enough natural charm he could have sailed into the Oval Office if he wanted.’

Fighting to regain some control of her rolling emotions, Emma turned her back on Jubilee and when she spoke again her voice was cold and as hard as diamond.

‘I didn't teach you kids to be martyrs, I taught you how to be survivors.’

As Jubliee contemplated that for a moment, Emma suddenly changed the subject.

‘Now really, I must push you for a decision. The baby or the stake?’

Inwardly, Emma flinched at the bluntness of her own words.

‘You don’t get it. I can’t…’ – Jubilee faltered as she to put her fears into words – ‘I just can't… What if I lose control again and… and… hurt Shogo?’

Emma turned back to find a sight she never thought she’d see: Jubilation Lee quietly sobbing to herself.

Never the most comforting of counselors, Emma made a rare exception in this case, sitting down next to distraught Jubliee and wrapping her arms around her erstwhile student.

‘You won't hurt him, dear. You are a survivor, not a murderer. Yes, you killed a man, but because of you did hundreds of girls have been spared a fate worse than death.’

Later, Jubilee couldn’t say how long they sat like that. In any case, no one would believe her if she told them. Jubes crying in Emma Frost’s arms? Not in a million years!

The few remaining members of Generation X would always have a complicated relationship with their former headmistress. While they were never the most loyal of students, they all acknowledge that the psychic had had a subtle but lasting effect on what they had become: survivors.

As Jubilee got up off the bed to dote over her Shogo in his crib, Emma watched as a metamorphosis took place, the once scared child now a world-weary adult woman, a whole lot older than the girl she had coaxed into the Astral Plane.

Jubliee picked up the sleeping astral form of her son, and as she held him she noticed the piano had ceased playing.

‘I never knew you played piano,’ Jubilee said as Emma stood next to her.

‘Oh I don’t. Cordelia was the one with the musical talent.’

‘You sure you never had a lesson?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Because I haven’t either, and if all this is made from our experiences, then who was playing the piano?’

Intrigued, Emma rested her hand on the boy’s head for a second and then smiled a knowing grin.

‘Well now, isn’t that interesting,’ she purred.

‘What?’

‘Oh nothing, dear, you’ll find out soon enough. Now it’s time to say goodnight.’

Before Jubilee’s could respond everything went dark again and she woke up with a start. The White Queen, the piano and the academy where gone, replaced by the stark metal walls of the containment cell.

And though she remembered her whole conversation with the telepath, she couldn’t understand why she suddenly felt like the need to hum Franz Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No 2.

* * *

  _Next time:_ Ok I’m not making any promises. There’s two other shorter sections between this and more Jubes/Mattias. (Heaven knows I’d like to get back to writing a slightly lighter tone for a bit) Looking at the layout I have of chapter 8, I might be able to fit both in without causing my beta to want to smother me in my sleep. The poor boy can only handle so much X-Men stuff in a week.

Whatever happens there will be...Gambit...Cecilia...and some pretty unhappy Shogo.

  
  



	8. Inner Logic

Housekeeping: No major essays this week .*Audible sigh of relief from all readers*

_Have fun!:o)_

* * *

‘I just can’t. Logan!’ snapped Jubilee at her mentor, weary of their circular argument.

‘Why not, darlin’?’ the cigar-chomper countered, rubbing his eyes. ‘Kid’s keepin’ the whole house up at night.’

He couldn’t help feeling discussion would’ve gone better if he wasn’t so damn tired. Yet here they were, having spent the best part of the morning in his office, arguing back and forth.

And it was the little one at the heart of their disagreement who was the reason Logan couldn’t get any shut-eye. Not even the comfort of Ororo’s soft curves could lull the wildman to sleep.

The whole situation put the Wolverine on edge. The infant’s constant nightly wailing was grinding on his nerves, and sabotaging any hope he had of convincing Jubilee to go see her son.

The firecracker may not have been a Howlett, but she sure as hell inherited his family line’s stubborn streak. Logan had learned long ago that arguing with Jubes was like trying to navigate a mental maze; just when you thought you had it all figured out, there was another dead end. The young woman had an aptitude for argument that would have made Socrates pee his toga in frustration.

‘He’s miserable without ya, y’know?’ he emphasised, realising he was now stooping to emotional blackmail.

Jubilee took another swig from the small flask in her hand. The syntho-blood, while not as potent the real deal, was slowly healing the injuries she’d sustained at the hands of the Jersey Stalker. Just one more bone left to knit before hand would give her the all-clear: after a final, quick X-ray, he’d insisted on placing her left arm in a soft brace, and no amount of whining or puppy dog eyes could dissuade him. She’d have to endure the brace till her arm was fully healed, or otherwise Hank threatened to tie her to a med-lab bed for the foreseeable future.

Pretty darn kinky, Jubilee had thought.

But for the annoyance factor of the brace, her arm thankfully didn’t hurt all that much. That was a good thing, since you needed to be sharp when you went up against the Wolverine. The old man was a sly one, not unwilling to figuratively – and sometimes literally – hit below the belt.

Watching the loner run a rough hand over his face, Jubilee felt a pang of guilt. Not only had her separation from the boy contributed to Logan’s ragged appearance, but also that week she’d had three more secret psychic counselling sessions with Emma Frost – a woman Logan neither like nor trusted.

The thinky part of Jubilee’s mind urged that Logan was right to distrust the blond telepath. Underestimating the White Queen was never a good idea, but Jubes had found in Emma an unlikely confidante, acquiring a new appreciation for the older woman’s bluntness.

After their first session, Jubilee had indeed decided to ‘slap on a smile’ and venture out of her cell. She’d even turned over the stake she’d hidden under her bed to a shocked and furious Raizo. She didn’t envy the lecture Visigoth was in for when the Forgiven departed.

The night before, Emma had declared Jubliee sufficiently rehabilitated for their sessions to end, but before she vanished the White Queen had left her with the number of a secure landline, just in case she or any other former members of Gen-X needed some tough love. Emma was just one more secret to add to growing list of lies and deceptions, along with Asteria.

Jubilee was snapped from her guilty thoughts by an irritated Logan clearing his throat.

‘What, Wolvie? I’m just not ready to see him, OK? Maybe in a few days. Cecelia’s totally fine with him. Shogo just needs time to adjust. ’

Logan fought the urge to pop a claw. With his patience running at an all-time low, the Wolverine decided he was done debating and asking nicely.

‘Kid doesn’t needa adjust to a thing! Cecelia ain’t his mother. You made a promise to that kid and ya can’t just turn tail and run. So get your vampire ass out of my office and go see your son!’

* * *

Standing in the doorway of the school’s bustling cafeteria, Jubilee fidgeted with the wooden cross around her neck.Before he’d shoved her out of the office, Logan had handed the symbol back to her, and she could have sworn her mentor nearly sighed in relief when the cross did nothing to her vampire skin.

The cross, like the syntho-blood, was a reassuring reminder that she was the one in control, not the thing lurking in her soul.

Still, Jubilee would’ve preferred her reunion with Shogo to have taken place somewhere away from prying eyes. The cafeteria at lunch was a precautionary measure; if something did go wrong and Shogo was put in jeopardy, it was packed with enough omegas, aliens, healers and X-Men who could take her down.

Taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly, she made her way to the teacher’s table.

Lunch hour in full effect, but the large table at the back of the hall was suspciously deserted. The only residents who seemed hungry today where Remy and Cecelia; the latter trying to coax the obstinate bundle in the stroller next to her into eating his lunch. From the frustrated expression that stained the doctor’s face, Jubilee assumed it wasn’t going well. So invested where the couple in their battle that neither notice Jubilee next to them till she spoke.

‘Ah… Hi, guys.’

‘Oh, thank God!’ blurted Cecelia with relief

‘Bonjour, petite,’ greeted Remy with a touch more grace, giving Jubilee a hug and a peck on both cheeks. ‘Welcome back ta da land o’ the livin’.’

‘Shogo, there’s someone here to see you,’ cooed Cecelia to the boy as she turned his stroller to face Jubilee and stepped back into Remy’s embrace, giving mom some room.

Jubilee’s breath hitched as she laid eyes on her son. For two weeks Logan had been insisting that Shogo wasn’t taking their separation well, but she’d steadfastly refused to believe him, reasoning that there was no safer place for the boy than in the care of school’s latina doctor and the ragin’ Cajun.

It only occurred to her now, staring down at her son’s red and angry little face, that Shogo might’ve needed more than just someone to protect him, to shield him from the raving vampire girl downstairs. Jubilee had never imagined that as young as he was, Shogo would even miss her if she wasn’t around.

The infant was considerably thinner than the last time she’d seen him. His usually relaxed appearance was gone, leaving a boy who furtively glanced around him, as if hoping to spot something, while chewing gummily on a tiny fist.

‘Hi, little guy,’ Jubilee squeaked as she crouched unevenly before the stroller, too frightened to pick up her son. Instead she gently pulled the clammy fist from his mouth and risked laying a soothing hand on his slight tummy.

At the familiarity of her touch and voice, Shogo instinctively raised his arms up to be held. When nothing happened, the boy was puzzled. The soft, warm one had always picked him up before. He let out a worried whimper.

‘Don’t cry, little guy, I’m here,’ Jubilee whispered, giving his small hand a soft squeeze.

Noting the uncomfortable interaction, Cecelia moved to intervene, but Remy held her back. Perplexed, she peeked up at the lanky man who responded with a slight shake of his auburn mane. This was between mother and son.

Again, Shogo held out his arms to his mother and whined a little louder this time, struggling against the safety straps of his stroller. Attempting to console her unhappy son, Jubilee picked up Bamf, Shogo’s favourite toy, and offered it to him. The gesture was fake and unnatural, and the baby could sense it. He’d had enough. Why wasn’t he being picked up? Where was the love and warmth he’d had grown to depend on the last few months?

He let out an anguished scream that shocked the cafeteria to a standstill.

People turned and stared, but to Jubilee the onlookers could’ve been on the other side of the planet – the only thing that mattered in that moment was the distress of her son.

Before Shogo could let loose a second wail, his mom was already undoing his safety straps. The only thing she knew was that Shogo needed her, and it was only after she’d successfully wrestled the unhappy infant from his stroller and had him settled on her shoulder that she realised what had happened.

That scream had awakened a primal Pavlovian response, bypassing all of Jubilee well-honed defences. That scared, lonely look was the same one as all those months before, when she’d spotted him among the rubble of the orphanage. His big brown eyes staring straight through her. She had to pick him up, protect him, love him – it was what nature demanded of any good mother.

Feeling the love and safety of his mommy’s soothing embrace and soft words, Shogo’s cries died down to mere hiccups in an instant.

‘I love you ’ Jubilee whispered as she rested her cheek on his fluffy head and rubbed his back in small, soothing circles. ‘I will never leave you again.’

As the world around them came back into focus, Quentin Quire’s biting voiced cut through the air.

’Thank fuck! I thought the brat was never gonna to shut up.’

* * *

Later that night, a freshly scrubbed Shogo, clad in his favourite Thing-themed onesie, contentedly dozed in his mother’s arms, soothed by the steady rhythmic beating of her heart.

Eventually, Jubilee knew she’d have to place him in his crib, but for now it just felt right holding him like this.

* * *

Another late night. His third one this week. He could easily imagine his overworked brain slowly dripping from his ears with each new equation.

Did I really sign up for this? Mattias pondered gloomily as he scratched a 2 next to (ρv + p) on the blackboard. At least his hand wasn’t hurting for once. Maybe Dr Welker’s latest batch of wonder pills were actually working.

Feeling trapped by his office’s grey walls, Mattias had decamped to one of the Pupin building’s lower seminar halls. The university tended frown on professors using classrooms as their own personal after-hours labs, but the doctor figured it wasn’t as if they’d demote him – he was already serving hard time in academic hell. And anyway, Garu wouldn't fire him; the department couldn’t even order pizza on the pittance they paid him, never mind attract another similarly qualified physicist to the job.

Mattias furiously scribbled down a new sequence, only to wipe it off a second later, would (u2+p) be better? Maybe… Why the hell not? He was throwing everything at it but the kitchen sink.

ly downside to working in the seminar hall was that he couldn’t take the blackboard with him at the end of the night. His parents had bought him some newfangled tablet contraption the previous Christmas to help him at work, but while he appreciated the gift, for him physics always calculated best when written in crumbling chalk. Did Dr Barcia Marbosa tap out her water dynamics theory on some flashy screen? Nope; she had served her time, tirelessly working for hours, her clothes and fingers covered in chalk dust. That was how real science got done.

Before Mattias called it a night he’d have to meticulously copy it all down by hand, but he considered that a small price to pay for authentic work.

Halfway through a third round of re-calculations on his base fractal pairs, there was a knock at the door, the sharp sound echoing through the empty space of the hall.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Byers,’ Mattias answered without looking up from his equations, ‘I promise I’ll be out before closing time. There just one more vector to go.’

He was lying, of course. Every scientist knew there were always more vectors.

“Mr Byers” let out a very feminine giggle before answering back: ’Weird, Hank always says if he had a Twinkie for every un-calculated vector, we’d have to airlift him out of the lab.’

Mattias whipped around to find one Jubilation Lee standing by the hall door, with a Weathergreen’s grocery bag slung across her braced left arm and her sleeping son in his carrier by her right.

As flabbergasted as he was with her sudden reappearance in his life after her two-and-a-half-week sabbatical, he couldn’t deny the sense of relief that washed over him at seeing her again.

‘Hey,’ she greeted the stunned doctor with a small wave. ’Sorry, I totally didn’t mean to interrupt. Mr Byers said I’d find you here, but you’re obviously busy, so…’

’No, no, Miss Lee, you’re not interrupting,’ Mattias broke in, fearing for a second that she’d disappear on him again. ‘I was just in the middle of… You know what? It doesn’t really matter. What can I do for you?’

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I was just finishing off some stuff, nothing important. You know, dotting my “I”s, amalgamating my “pi”s’ – he smirked stupidly at his own rhyme, then hastily pulled back into his practiced semi-frown – ‘You know physicists: machines of efficiency and timeliness.’

Mattias waved for Jubliee to come in and she made a beeline for the the small blow heater he’d set up near the blackboard. While the university’s lecture halls had indoor heating, most of the warmth seemed to evaporate in the deserted rooms at night.

Jubilee smirked back. ‘Strange, from my experience scientists tend to be pretty absent-minded.’

‘How dare you slander my profession!’ Mattias countered with mock indignation, giving her his best stern professor look. It a good one: the one he’d practiced for hours in front of the mirror when he was still am insecure rookie academic.

Holding in a snigger at the strange contortions the doctor’s Nordic features were doing, Jubilee coyly replied: ‘Oh don’t blame me, blame Dr Henry P McCoy.’

‘Well, I guess he would know…’

Mattias shrugged defeatedly. Who was he to question the great Dr McCoy, world renowned geneticist, physicist and superhero? The genius was practically perfect in every way, and Mattias had to admit, begrudgingly as it was, he impressed with the company Miss Lee kept.

‘…Still, he shouldn’t be divulging all our secrets to you peasants.’

Forgetting herself for a moment, Jubilee nearly stuck out her tongue at her professor, something she often did when sparring with Bobby.

‘Oh, he didn’t have to tell us,’ she shot back with a wicked grin. ‘We kinda had it sussed when we found him snoring in his alphabetti spaghetti.’

A brief silence followed as Mattias tried to come to terms with a universe in which Hank McCoy slurped or snored in cheap canned pasta.

Letting the doctor have his moment, Jubilee settled Shogo by the small heater, making sure the blast of warmth wouldn’t make him uncomfortable. It was all going well till Jubilee tried balance the weight of the bag on her braced arm and got her other hand tangled up in Shogo’s baby blankets.

Seeing her get all twisted up, Mattias stepped in, taking the Weathergreen’s bag from her braced arm so she could untangle herself from the python-like swaddling. The Swede, for his part, felt like kicking himself for not helping sooner.

‘How is everything, by the way,’ he asked, trying to make up for it, as he pointing to her braced limb. ‘The note in your file said you fell?’

‘Checking up on me?’ she teased as she righted herself.

The doctor’s fair cheeks lit up like the 4th of July.

‘Well, er… you missed some classes and… er… well… it’s my duty as your professor to, er… stay abreast’ – he stuttered, glowing redder – ‘I mean to...’

‘It’s OK, I was just teasing,’ said Jubilee, saving Mattias from himself. Why make the guy feel like an idiot when he was the only lecturer who’d bothered to check up on her? None of her psych professors had even noticed she was gone.

‘It was nothing,’ a relieved Mattias assured her. ‘Just didn’t want you falling behind.’

Hopefully she didn’t assume he was some kind of creepy stalker who followed young ladies home after class.

‘So, your arm?’ he asked again, reminding her that she’d never answered his question.

‘Oh, this?’

Jubilee had to roll her eyes at the braced arm and Hank’s irrational need to pad out the whole school in cotton wool. But she couldn’t tell Mattias the truth. Instead, she followed standard X-practice and played it down.

‘It’s not that bad… Really, it totally looks way worse than it is. Just clumsy ol’ Jubes.’

From the graceful way she naturally moved, Mattias severely doubted the girl had a clumsy bone in her lithe little body. Something just didn’t add up. Yet he wasn’t about to push the issue.

’I’m just glad you’re OK,’ he said. But from now on he was going to keep a real close eye on Miss Lee. The city could be a dangerous place for a pretty young single mother.

Unaware that the doc was on to her, Jubilee rambled nervously. ‘Yeah, but it’s a pain catching up. Lots of burning the ol’ midnight oil and stuff.’

She mentally slapped herself. Was she thirteen again or something?

Then she noticed Mattias was holding the Weathergreen’s bag, and she remembered why she’d sought him out that evening in the first place.

‘That’s for you, by the way,’ she said, indicating to the bag. ‘I never properly thanked you for the ride home.’

‘You really didn’t have to,’ he insisted as he peeked inside the bag, seeing a pale blue cardboard cake box. This had very pleasant possibilities.

‘But I wanted to,’ she beamed as Mattias settled himself on the edge of the desk to open the box. Jubilee plunked herself upon the long row of desks opposite, her short legs cheerfully swinging off the edge.

Watching Dr Holgersson take out the box, Jubilee couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy with anticipation. She’d spent days mulling over the perfect present. So many things were just too personal to get someone who was your college lecturer and other things, like gift tokens, were too cold and impersonal. The proud Swede didn’t strike her as a wino, so one of Warren’s older-than-dirt bottles of vino was out. Hank had suggested a book, maybe something physics-related and leather-bound, but the prices had made her queasy – far too ambitious for a single mother and college student. She was on the verge of maxing out her institute plastic as it was.

‘I didn’t know Weathergreen’s had a bakery section,’ said Mattias as he worked on unknotting the twine that held the cake box lid shut.

‘Oh they don’t, I just needed something to carry it in. The school’s cook whipped it up.’

She watched the doctor closely to see how he took the news that his treat was possibly prepared by mutant hands. When he didn’t seem to care, Jubilee continued.

‘Cook is an amazing baker. She can basically whip up anything you want, as long as you beg at just the right frequency.’

Which Jubilee knew from experience was just below that of a dog whistle.

‘Well, you can tell her I said thanks,’ he said, as he continued to struggled with the twine single-handedly.

Jubes was suddenly mortified. She shouldn’t have let Cook tie the damn box down like it was being sent to the front lines! But she knew better than to interfere; years of living with the Professor taught her that most people hated being coddled.

It took another minute, but Mattias finally got the hang of it and successfully removed the knotted twine from the box before folding the lid open. Then a look of pure amazement and delight washed away his customary semi-frown, and for the first time since she’d joined his class the good doctor truly smiled. Not a smirk or a grin, but a 100% genuine human smile. Jubilee knew she’d struck gift gold.

‘No… way…’ was about all he could utter as he stared at the box’s contents.

‘Cook looked up the recipe, so it should be pretty close.’

Jubilee wasn’t sure the doctor could even hear her, so transfixed was he on the sweet delights held in that box. Mattias picked up one of the tiny paper cups, eyed it with a reverence that border on the sacrilicious, and popped the gooey toffee within right into his mouth. Jubes was remind of Hank and his first Twinkie after Hostess reopened. What was it with scientists and sugary things?

‘Oh God, this is soooo good,’ Mattias sighed in sweet ecstasy, and Jubilee wondered whether he’d prefer some time alone.

‘You said you wouldn’t be able to get any this Christmas so I thought, ya know…’

Jubilee’s voice drifted off when it became clear the man wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. Not that she minded, really. To see the normally curmudgeonly doctor so blissfully happy made the kitchen duty shifts she’d swapped in return for the knäck totally worth it.

Years seemed to fall from his face as the Swede munched his way through the top layer of toffees, and Jubilee had to admit, with the right lightning, he might be considered cute – in a academic Viking meets garden gnome sorta way.

Snapping out of his sweet, sweet revery, Mattias offered some knäck his student, scooching up a bit on his busy desk so Jubilee could sit beside him.

Then he reached for a piece from the second layer, and his face returned to a frown.

‘Miss Lee, is there jelly beans in this knäck?’

He held it up to the light to inspect it in much the same way a radiologist would inspect an X-ray for signs of cancer. Yes, those were definitely jelly beans.

‘Why are there jelly beans in my knäck?’

Now it was Jubilee’s turn to blush deep red. Her original plan was to be out of the building by the time he unearthed that second layer. Damn Paige and her adorable yet extremely evil fourth-graders!

‘First off, in my defence I had nothing to do with this,’ she blurted, hoping the doc would understand she was a just as much a victim here as his precious knäck. ‘Some of the fourth-graders might’ve wanted to help out, and some of those same incredibly dangerous ten-year-olds may have mentioned that almonds were like totally too boring.’

Mattias eyebrows rose at the prospect.

‘Hey, not my words! Outta the mouths of babes, ya know?’ – she held up her hands in defence – ‘I totally liked the first batch, but then the kids got into Bobby’s candy stash and everything kinda got out of hand. I swear there woulda been a tween riot if we didn’t let ‘em have their way – and you do not say no to a tween who can combust every atom in your body with a single thought.’

The doctor simply shook his head. ‘Did you bother telling those little philistines that knäck is a sacred Swedish delicacy? It’s perfect, and you don’t mess with perfection, Miss Lee.’

Jubes had to a smother a treacherous laugh behind her hand at the doctor’s mock-serious tone, trying to appear repentant for the part she played in “Candygate”.

Not completely convinced by his student’s solemn expression, Mattias doubtfully eyed the offending piece of toffee once more, then chanced taking a bite, chewed it over like a judge about to pass sentence.

‘You know what?’ he mumbled as he popped the remainder in his mouth. ‘Bugger tradition – these are awesome!’

Half an hour and a whole box of jelly bean, peanut and M&M-laden knäck later, Jubilee had regaled Mattias with the epic tale that was “cooking with hyper fourth-graders”. Now

both were wired on ridiculous amounts of sugar, and neither was in the mood to move about. Instead, Jubliee’s attention wandered to the equation scrawled on the blackboard.

‘That?’ The physicist sighed, shaking his head, and gestured at it wildly with a sticky finger. ‘That is nothing.’

‘Doesn’t look like nothing.’

Jubilee jumped off the desk to take a closer look at the chalk scribbles. She didn’t even know where one might begin to decipher the complex algorithms. Seeing her trying to unravel the mess of numbers, Mattias wanted save the girl from wasting her time.

‘Don’t even bother…’

‘I know, I know,’ Jubilee interjected, sweet sacrasm dripping from her voice, ‘the BA undergrad should mind her own business.’

‘Oh God no, you misunderstand’ – he fumbled, embarrassed that his words came out wrong – ‘it’s not because you’re a BA grad. Most physicist would have trouble with that.’

His shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh.

‘It’s for my fractal chaos paper. It’s complete garbage. I might as well wipe it and start over.’

‘What’s wrong with it?’ she asked, trying to find anything in the chalk symbols that looked familiar. ‘It’s just fluid fractal mechanics right? Only your model uses people instead of a molecules.’

Jubilee immensely enjoyed the way Mattias’ jaw dropped.

‘What’s wrong?’ she teased with an innocent smile.

‘How did you know that?’

The SoCal mallrat took over: ‘Oh they like totally allow us lowly BAs on the internet these days – ya know, as long as we promise not to get our cooties on anything.’

Having had her fun, she switching to a matter-of-fact tone: ‘I read up on you, Dr Holgersson. This should be part of your behavioural fractal dynamics algorithm.’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he stuttered. The physicist felt his world tilt ever so slightly on its axis. When was the last time anyone had shown any interest in his obscure work? ‘Most of this is all new stuff though. ’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘It’s just not clicking. The math is all right, but the sequences just aren’t working.’

He moved to joined her at the board, squinting at the misbehaving equations.

‘I just can’t seem to make all the pieces fit right.’

Disheartened, he stuffed his hands into pockets of his khakis. Jubilee chose to ignore that obvious sign of defeat.

‘OK, so talk me through it.’

‘Talk you through it?’ he echoed back, not quite following her.

‘Yes, start at point A and talk me through the theory.’

The doctor was about to object when she beat him punch: And don’t tell me I won’t understand.’

‘But this is highly advanced math…’

‘Well duh!’ she drawled. ‘Of course it all math, but all math has some basic logical bone structure, right?’

He seemed sceptical.

’Look,’ she continued, ‘Hank always says that to understand the equation you need to understand the logic behind the numbers and symbols. It sounds to me like that’s where your problem is. And as an added bonus, you don’t have to worry about me stealing your work – can’t do the math, remember?’

‘It’s gonna bore you,’ he warned. Unperturbed, she retook her seat on the other side of the desk, pulling Shogo closer so she could keep him in the corner of her eye.

‘We’ve got an hour or so to kill, and my schedule is wide open’ – she waved him to the board – ‘so, Teach… teach!’

What followed would be the template for many nights to follow.

But this evening, for more than an hour, closer to two, Mattias slowly – but never condescendingly – talked Jubilee, and ultimately himself, through the problem at hand, pausing occasionally to reorganise steps and equations as things became clearer.

To his surprise, he found Miss Lee to be an attentive listener and assistant. It was clear that the calculations were beyond her, but her grasp of the underlying ideas was astounding. He felt like she knew what he was about to say before he did, and for the first time since his Berkeley days, Mattias felt as if someone was willing to embrace his ideas, no matter how wacky or improbable they sounded.

Fractal behavioural fluid dynamics was not an easy subject to understand. The cognitive leap necessary to think of people not as individuals with free will but as nothing more than parts of a distinct pattern, following a path of least resistance through life, made most people queasy. Then once you’d calculated the expected route a behavioural pattern would take, that’s when the real fun began, as rogue elements get introduced into the flow. It was the science of introducing chaos into order.

The seminar hall had grown steadily colder as they worked, but neither noticed. Mr Byers came around at some point to chuck them out but they fobbed him off with lame excuses. They only took a brief brake once so that Jubilee could rock an awakened Shogo back to sleep.

It was an intellectual meeting of minds, and much to Mattias’ delight, instead of looking for the nearest exit, his student was completely engaged. Indeed, her ability to stump him with hard questions reawakened part of his disillusioned mind he had feared lost forever. The queries came thick and fast: If all genes were selfish by nature, could you predict the actions of one truly good soul? In a world that preached conformity, how do the actions of an anarchist force change in the patterns around him? With seven billion individuals all going about their daily lives, how do the actions of a few extraordinary super beings affect the flow?

By midnight, when Mr Byers threatened to lock them in if they didn’t leave, Mattias had a much better understanding of his life’s work – and of the curious young woman who was much more than just another random vector.

* * *

_Next Week:_ High drama as we take a seven year step backwards in time. Join Remy, Rogue, Bobby and a cranky thirteen (and a half) year old Firecracker as they face the most daunting of challenges - surviving a trip to the Museum of Modern Art….Wait...What? Huh?!

  
  



	9. Chapter Nine: Interlude - White Lights: Part One

_**Timeline Housekeeping:** _ So this is our first flashback interlude. This takes place about four months after Wolverine, Psylocke and Jubilee join back up with the rest of the X-Men. Bishop has just recently landed on the mansion doorstep, too.

I know some of you may question my portrayal of the X-Men in this chapter, but please keep in mind that at this point in time, many of these characters were still basically strangers. The O5 had just rejoined the main team, along with Gambit, Jubes, Bishop and a more serious ninja Betsy. This is the X-family as they were then.

Jubilee, you’ll also notice, is a bit of a brat. This fits with her earlier portrayals; Hama and Claremont both preferred a pretty cynical and abrasive firecracker. In hindsight, it makes tonnes of sense - it would’ve taken a street kid some time to trust and warm up to her new family, and for them to see beyond the mask of obnoxiousness.

_**General Housekeeping:** _ If any of you are interested in learning more about fractals, I highly recommend the Fractal Foundation’s website. Some of the images will melt your brain.

_Enjoy!_

_***_

_**Chapter Nine: Interlude - White Lights: Part One.** _

“ _A fractal is a never-ending pattern. Infinitely complex - they are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop. Driven by recursion, fractals are images of dynamic systems – the pictures of Chaos.” -_ _**Fractal Foundation** _

_******* _

‘An art museum? You gotta be freakin kiddin’ me!’

A passing tourist gave the loud teenager a disapproving look, and Bobby Drake groaned inwardly. Trust Logan's gregarious sidekick to make a scene in front of one of the New York’s most popular tourist attractions.

‘Remember, keep a low profile, we don’t want any trouble,’ Cyclops had warned the group as they were leaving the hotel. Bobby knew Ol’ Fearless Leader would have preferred it if everyone just mulled around the Hilton till the Mutant Registration Conference was over. Luckily, Jean had reminded her anally-retentive partner of Charles’ promise that those X-Men not on security detail could spend their time in the Big Apple however they wished.

It was only as Bobby, Rogue and Remy were about to leave that the telepath had coerced them into bringing a sulking Jubilee along.

_A low profile?_ Bobby mused. _With this obnoxious, bubblegum-chewing mallrat? No way! That god-awful yellow raincoat was brighter than most Times Square billboards!_

The Iceman tried to freeze out the frustrated young girl’s bitchin’ as she continued to deride Rogue choice in tourist attraction.

‘...I mean this is _the_ NYC, it has the Avengers’ mansion, the Fantastic Four building and something called Hell’s Kitchen, but cornpone over here picks an art museum?!’

The teenager stomped a sneakered foot on every word. She was a walking time-bomb, but Rogue hoped to defuse her.

‘Now Sugah, we had ourselves a deal, ’member? We each gotta pick an activity.’

Bobby might not have been that hyped on the idea of spending his first morning off in months at the Museum of Modern Art – otherwise known as MOMA – but neither was he in the mood to stand outside arguing with Jubilation Lee.

‘Come on, Jubes, embrace culture! You might even like it.’

‘I seriously freakin’ doubt it,’ the teenager muttered around a wad of pink gum.

Remy could only sigh. Miffed that his plans to spend some quality time alone with his beautiful southern counterpart had come apart once more, the Cajun wasn’t about to let one teeny girl place a damper on Rogue’s morning.  

‘Drake migh’ be right, petite. They say art be windows into da painter’s soul.’

‘Bullshit,’ Jubilee shot back, ignoring the disapproving glares from the three adults. ‘You’re just here to case the joint and get into her pants.’   

Not waiting for Remy to respond, the firecracker trudged towards MOMA’s sliding doors, like a martyr being lead towards a pire. Her sullen expression spoke volumes, not to mention the way her small shoulders slumped as she entered the glass behemoth of art. Jubilee had imagined a vastly different, more exciting romp for her first visit to the Big Apple.

In fact, Logan should’ve been the one showing her around.

When the Professor had announced his plans to attend the conference, extending an open invitation for any of the mansion residents to join him, Hank and Jean, Jubilee had jumped at the chance to see the New York for the first time. She babbled non-stop for days about all the possible adventures that awaited her and her mentor in the big city. Of course Jean and Ororo had to remind her more than once that the trip was only for a couple of days, hardly enough time to see and do all that she dreamed of.

But Jubliee wasn’t to be dissuaded. ‘Cool stuff,’ she informed the two women and anyone else she could corner, ‘always happens when Wolvie’s around.’

As the girl’s excitement mounted, everyone in the mansion waited for the object of her obsession to tell her to slow down, and come back to earth. But the Wolverine remained silent, letting the girl happily carry on.

Three weeks later, as the mansion residents were about to leave, the Canadian was nowhere to be found, having taken off suddenly two days before, and leaving his sidekick with only a vague promise of returning in time. Jean confided in Rogue that she imagined Logan, realising nothing could live up to the girl’s expectations, had taken the easy way out.

Now with no Wolvie to shadow, Jubilee has been saddled with what she considered to be the lamer of the X-Men, and doomed to a week of pointless sightseeing, and minimal action.

'We better follow her,’ Rogue said as the girl entered the museum. ‘Gal’s liable to blow the whole buildin’ sky high!'

Catching up to the teen, the group spent the next few minutes handing in coats and bags, inspecting the floor plan and ducking out of the way of the more aggressive tourist groups.

As they wandered the halls, Remy and Bobby argued the merits of traditional art versus the eclectic collection of paintings and sculptures around them, and Rogue played devil’s advocate for both sides. Not interested in the dorky stuff on display, Jubilee plodded on behind them, pondering the merits of “accidentally” bumping into one of the priceless works around her.

Soon the small group found themselves in the busiest part of the building. Unlike most of MOMA, which was cooled to near freezing, here the throng of bodies in the exhibition hall heated the room to a humid swampiness. In one corner, a lone, portly security guard made sure no one stepped too close to any of the priceless paintings.

Rogue visibly paled at the sight of the eager masses. While Jean and Hank had insisted that no trip to MOMA would be complete without seeing its highly prized collection of Jackson Pollock pieces, the southern belle wasn’t sure it was worth it taking a plunge into the sweaty maelstrom. Glancing behind her, she spotted similar expressions of dismay on the faces of her companions.

‘OK, we'll just nip in for a quick gander. We’ll be out before y’all know it.’  

Not wanting to disappoint the beauty, and potential conquest, Bobby shrugged his shoulders in agreement. The Cajun merely nodded. Behind them, Jubilee rolled her eyes behind her pink shades at the malleability of men; one smile from a pretty girl and they totally melted.

The group edged their way in the packed hall. The first few paintings on display paid homage to Pollock's early abstract expressionist period, and while Rogue thought they were interesting, she much preferred the soft flowing lines of Cadmus’ sketches downstairs.

The next line of Pollock’s works, Rogue was surprised to find, weren’t paintings at all, but finely detailed black-and-white inked engravings which swirled with chaotic emotion.

Intrigued, Rogue had to crane her neck over some dawdling tourists to read the info plaque on the wall beside the most striking piece. What she read made her grimace: “Landscape with Steer”, the plaque read, was notable for having been painted during one of Pollock’s most notorious periods of alcohol abuse. Indeed, the text praised the artist’s ability to work at a steady pace while still guzzling "gallons" of alcohol daily.

'Seems he had it bad for the drink,' a bitter Rogue whispered to the Cajun, who was trying to read the same text over her shoulder, before she slinked away. Her own history, with her father’s alcoholism, had left Rogue with little love or forgiveness for angry, drunk men.

Sensing the tang of disappointment and anger rolling off her, Remy immediately turned to follow.

'Da man was le bâtard, non? Maybe we find somethin’ else upstairs.'

While most of her was inclined to follow the Cajun’s advice, Rogue didn’t want to face the sophisticated Jean and Hank without having seen Pollock’s famous “drip” paintings at least once.

'I'll take Kirby over this pretentious shit any day,’ Bobby proclaimed as the four X-Men came to stand before “One: Number 31”, arguably Pollock’s most famous drip painting. The utterance garnered the mutant shocked gasps from the museum patrons surrounding them.

‘You might just be right, sugah,’ sighed Rogue as she squinted up at the mess of paint and canvas. ‘Ya’ll ready to go? The Professor recommended seein’ the Goldblatt photographs on the next floor.’

As the three adults turned to leave the stuffy confines of the hall, Remy noticed Jubilee didn’t move to join them. For the first time that day her ever-present shades where perched on top of her head and her blue eyes were staring intently at one of the smaller Pollock creations, a dense mesh of intersecting swirls of vibrant colours entitled “White Light”.

‘Petite,’ said Gambit as he tapped the mesmerised girl on the shoulder, ‘we goin'.’

Distracted, the teen only glanced up at him for a second before refocusing her attention to the painting.

Not sure if she’d fully heard him, he tried again. ‘I said...’

‘Yeah, yeah… whatever,’ Jubilee interrupted, dismissing the thief with a slight wave. ‘I'll catch you guys later.’

For a moment Remy considered forcing her to come with them, but thought better of it. If the unhappy child had found something she liked, maybe it would put an end to her brooding.

And maybe if he could give Drake the slip, he could even snag some alone time with Rogue. Remy could but grin at the dozens of possible Iceman distraction tactics that bubbled up.

‘Dat fine, but you meet us at the entrance at one,’ he informed the girl.

She failed to respond.

‘Petite?' There was a note of warning in his voice.

‘I heard you! Geez, entrance one! I’ve got it.'

Next few hours were filled with much of the same. Between critiquing the various works on display, elbowing grumpy tourists, and a trip to the museum's gift shop, the rest of the morning passed quickly.

Meanwhile, the Cajun had to admit that his teammate was much craftier than his boyish looks let on. There was just no way to shake the boy; he followed Rogue like a heat-seeking missile, and whenever Remy thought he’d finally managed to get rid of him, one turn seconds later and Bobby was right back next to the Mississippi belle.

As for Bobby, he decided that even Scott Summers would have been impressed by the general level of dullness they’d managed to maintain all morning. The only excitement came by way of some dodgy New York wiring, when the lighting in the building flickered erratically for a few seconds before returning to normal. Smiling apologetically, a museum guide assured the gathered visitors that power shorts were common in the area and to continue enjoying their day.

When one o’clock rolled by, the X-Men were more than ready to find the nearest exit, grab some lunch and rest their aching feet. Exiting the glass building, they saw Jean, Hank and Bishop were already waiting on them. The redhead smiled as she tapped her watch, mimicking her rigorously punctual other half.  

‘Ah know, we’re late!’ the Southerner apologised as they joined the group.

‘I was kidding! We just got here ourselves,’ said Jean, tucking a errant strand of hair back into her perfect chignon.

Unlike the others, the telepath would have little time to relax during the week. Rather, her and Hank would be stationed at the Professor's side through most of the conference. Rogue suspected Charles had an ulterior motive for wanting the stunning former model at his side. No red-blooded senator would be able to form a coherent thought while in the same room as Jean Grey. The woman radiated poise, charm and sex appeal.

‘Professor and Scott aren't coming?’ Bobby remarked, noting the two hadn’t accompanied the others. Iceman hoped it didn’t mean lunch would be delayed; he’d been looking forward to the lavish spread Warren was treating them to at Worthington Enterprises.

‘Regretfully, no,’ Hank informed his friend. ‘The Algerian Ambassador insisted he had something rather urgent he needed to discuss with Charles.’

Jean nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, the man practically ambushed us on the way out of the assembly. Scott decided to tag along to keep an eye on things.’

‘He expectin' trouble?’ asked Remy, his red mutant eyes narrowing behind his dark-tinted glasses.

‘No, I did a surface scan on Monsieur St Croix. He seemed harmless enough - just agitated about something. The Professor and Scott will join us later.’

’Talking about lunch, and can we get going?’ said Bobby. ‘I'm _starving_.’

‘Starving, really, Bobby?’ Jean smirked. ‘Then that _wasn’t_ you lining up for fourths at breakfast this morning? In all the years I’ve known you, I can’t remember a time that you weren’t on the edge of wasting away.’

The Long Island native didn’t even blush. ‘Hey, you know, I’m a growing...’ – and he paused to silently mouth the next word, one he’d never say out loud in public – ‘...mutant.’

As the group was about to leave, the stoic time traveler piped up for the first time.

'Where's Jubilation?'

There was a collective groan as Rogue, Remy and Bobby mentally kicked themselves.

‘Gal was spos’ta meet us here,’ Rogue told the others as her eyes darted around them, hoping she’d simply missed the tiny figure in the bustling crowd.

'She’s probably still inside,' Bobby reassured the other mutants, silently praying that the firecracker hadn't decided to take off while they’d been distracted. The girl had a vicious calculating steak; if she’d given them the slip the Professor would flip his shiny bald lid! Charles was particularly fond of the abrasive mallrat; Bobby couldn’t fathom why.

‘Jean, ya think you could...?’ Rogue didn’t bother finishing her question as she guessed from the distant look in the telepath’s green eyes that she was already scanning the area for any sign of the teen.

Jean's consciousness floated among throngs of people clustered around the entrance as she searched for the essence of a familiar mind, and found none. Either Jubilee wasn’t among them or her strong mental shields were all the way up.

Expanding her scan of the area and still not sensing the girl, Jean let her mind drift out further and through the the glass door of the building. Once inside, her senses was instantly overwhelmed.

On the fourth floor of the museum, the pyrokinetic one’s consciousness pulsed so brightly that Jean feared it would blind her. For the first time ever, Jubilee’s shields were completely down, and her young mind was laid exposed.

Exercising years of practiced restraint, Jean resisted the overpowering hunger to dive into and explore the girl’s mind. Downed shields or no, it was an ethical line she wouldn't allow herself to cross.

Hank noticed Jean was stunned by what her mind was seeing, and stepped close to steady her, letting her lean against his solid frame.

‘Jeannie?’ The doctor worriedly enquired.  

‘I’m fine, I just scanned one too many minds today,’ she tried to assure him with a shaky smile.

‘Maybe you should retire to the Hilton for a short repose. I could prescribe...’

‘Hank...’ – her voice was stern – ‘...I said I'm fine. Don’t coddle me.’

’As you wish,’ the doctor relented, despite himself. ‘Were you able to ascertain the whereabouts of our young comrade?’

‘Jubes is still inside. She’s on the fourth floor, Pollock collection.’

‘Jackson Pollock?’ Bishop asked.

Jean was surprised that Bishop, a man with little taste for pop culture, had heard of the painter. 'Yes, I'm pretty sure that's where she been hiding.’

Rogue shook her head in disbelief. ‘But that's where we left her two hours ago!’

‘Trust me, she’s still there. Maybe she saw something she liked.’

‘Jubilation Lee is late for lunch because she found something she liked in a _museum_?’ Bobby croaked. 'You know what, this I have to see! I'll get her.’

‘And I'll come with you,’ said Bishop as he followed the Iceman back into the building.

So close to lunch hour, Bobby was relieved to find the fourth floor had emptied out considerably, most of the earlier crowd prioritising the growling of their stomachs over the need for cultural enrichment.

Among the remaining stragglers, the neon coat of the sparkler was easy to spot. Sitting crossed-legged on a bench, the girl had hardly moved from the place where Bobby had last seen her, though her usually animated features drawn into a mask of complete stillness. She reminded Bobby of a porcelain doll: delicate, but lifeless.

Before the two X-Men could move to break their teammate from her trance, they were intercepted by the portly museum guard.

‘Excuse me, sir, but weren’t you and your friends in here earlier with that girl?’ he asked, jerking his head in the general direction of small figure on the bench, his New York accent quivering with nervousness.

Bobby was amazed the man could remember their group among the hundreds that must have passed him by the hour.

‘I’m good with faces,’ said Jerry, as his name tag read, assuming the direction of the younger man’s thoughts from his puzzled expression.

The X-Man merely nodded, unsure where this was all heading. Behind him, he hoped the twitchy time-traveller had his hand far away from his beloved plasma gun.

Jerry continued: ‘The darndest thing happened after you left here. You see she jus’ stood there, starin’. After about a half hour I thought I’d ask her if she wanted to sit down, but the youngin’ wasn’t too happy with me interruptin' whatever she was up to. If you’re gonna go over there, sir, I’d recommend not makin’ any sudden movements.’

Taken aback, Bobby threw the strange guard another suspicious look before stepping around him and over to the mesmorised Jubliee.

Still, mindful of the guard’s cryptic warning, he kept his distance, loudly clearing his throat in an attempt to grab the girl's attention.

No response. She remained frozen to the spot.

The next move was Bishop’s. He maneuvered around Bobby and crouched his hulking frame before her.

‘Jubilation?’

Bobby noticed the habitual steely voice of the larger man softened somewhat when he addressed the teenager. But again, Jubilee refused to respond. So Bishop risked laying a gentle hand on her arm.

The response was immediate. Every light in their room and beyond flickered erratically, and from one corner there came a loud pop as a fluorescent light tube gave out from the sudden power surge.

That was quickly followed by frightened yelp in a foreign accent from the matriarch of the family that had been standing beneath the light. Jerry rushed over to help calm the shocked woman, only to be rather rudely shooed away by her blond haired son. As he walked away Jerry noticed the hands that did the shooing were covered in a pair of thick woolen gloves.

A boy wearing winter gloves in the middle of a summer heatwave? A strange, blue-eyed girl that makes the lighting go haywire? What was today’s youth coming too?

Back at the bench, a weak ‘Ouchy’ was all Jubilee could muster as she drifted back into reality. Bishop and Bobby both grabbed an arm slender arm and half carried, half dragged the girl out of the museum.

Bobby was furious with himself, Rogue and Remy. Earlier they had dismissed the flickering lighting, putting it down to tardy maintenance, but they should've recognised the tell-tale signs of electromagnetic interference.

For a young mutant in training, Jubilee had basic control of her dangerous plasmic discharges, maybe 85 percent of the time. But whenever she got angry or lost focus, the electroplasmic energy field that allowed her to maintain the integrity of her plasma globules would lash out, causing the mansion's conventional wiring to fritz. Many a toaster, television and VCR had met their end that way.

As the trio exited the museum, Jean didn't have to ask if something was wrong. The answer was plastered all over their unhappy faces. Bobby’s was a deep red, Bishop’s frown was lower than usual, and the firecracker between them looked mostly out of it.

‘What happened?’ Jean whispered urgently, only too aware of the many non-mutant ears around them.

Stunned by the girl’s sallow complexion, Remy reached out a hand as Bobby’s unceremoniously dumped her in the centre of the group.

‘Petite?’

When Jubilee didn’t answer, Remy shot the young man a hard look.

‘Sparky here nearly just fried a few million in priceless art! Lucky for us, she only managed to blow a lighting fixture and scare the crap out of some old German lady.’

The others looked down at the girl in disbelief. The first X-Commandment the Professor drilled into all his students was simple: Never use your abilities in public. One never knew who might be watching.

Rogue was first to piece the events of the morning together. ‘Wait a minute, the lights… that was you?’

She took the girl’s avoiding glance as a yes.

‘Why did’n ya come find us? What if someone saw ya?’

‘Someone did see her,’ Bishop admitted, ‘there's a guard on duty that must suspect something.’

Horrified by the implications, Hank turned to Jean. ‘Maybe you should...’

‘I'm on it.’ The telepath’s emerald eyes glazed once more as she retraced her earlier physic footsteps. She was back in less then 30 seconds. ‘The guards fine. He has some kind of minor facial eidetic mutant ability. He's not going to say anything.’

The proverbial bullet had been dodged, and there was an audible sigh of relief from everyone in the group. Everyone except Jubliee.

Jean put an arm around that pair of sagging shoulders in that yellow trenchcoat and gave them a firm squeeze. What good would a lecture a do? It was clear from Jubilee’s expression that she already felt bad enough.

‘Don't worry about it, we all lose control sometimes.’

A warning flicker flashed in the firecracker’s eyes, as if daring the other adults to contradict the telepath. No one said a word.

‘Accidents happen, Jubilee,’ added Jean warmly. ‘Now let’s get something to eat.’

* * *

 

_**Next Time:** What's the connection between Pollock's drip paintings and Jubilee's powers? Why did the firecracker drop her remarkable shields? Answers in part two of White Lights...Coming Soon! _

_But first, Beast and the good doctor meet..._

 


	10. Chapter Ten: Meeting of Minds

_**Housekeeping:**_ This one was a doozy and I really don't know why - I'm going to blame Hank – he just refused to do as he was told.

About two months have passed between this chapter and chapter eight.

_Have Fun!_

* * *

 

_**Chapter Ten: Meeting of Minds** _

Hank smiled politely as the cell phone camera’s fake shutter clicked. He wasn’t quite sure what a "selfie" was, exactly, but he had numerous requests from some of the cuter co-eds to pose for some.

Giggling, the pretty brunette science undergrad holding the phone thanked the professor for his time before skipping off to join the rest of her gaggle in handing out refreshments to the more senior members of the alumni and invited guests.

The vain part of Hank’s mind urged him to believe all that this attention and adoration was in connection with his lecture tour, but the cynical and traitorous other half reminded him that is was most likely his stint with the Avengers that was responsible.

At first the geneticist hadn’t been sure if this evening’s event – the celebration of the announcement of his lecture tour – was such a good idea, what with all the tension Cyclops’ damnable revolution was causing. But Dr Garu and Jubilation had been adamant that any positive mutant news could only help shift the media’s attention.

And in spite of his initial reservations, Hank had to admit that he was enjoying himself. The plainly decorated lecture hall might not have been the most prestigious of venues, but the atmosphere was warm – and the champagne free.

So far the whole experience had been fun, in a nostalgic kind of way. As the planning for his lectures got under way, Hank often found himself on the Columbia University campus, either to simplify the substance of his talks for the media team or to meet some new dignitary or journalist to whom the university wanted to show off their newest prize.

At first the interruptions to his routine had annoyed him, but after just a week, he found the staff and students started to approach him with a plethora of questions, sometimes to clarify some minor points on quantum algebra, at others to debate the nature of the multiverse.

For the several years after his secondary mutation had first appeared, Hank had tried to isolated himself from the science community and the world at large, only occasionally publishing a paper or two, and dreading it whenever he'd see some remark in the media about his drastically changed appearance. He had kept in touch with the Reed Richards’ and the Hank Pyms of the world, of course, but maintained a distance from anyone outside his immediate circle.

And it wasn’t like his research at the institute wasn’t keeping him busy. On the contrary, between teaching, his responsibilities to the team and researching whatever topics took his fancy, his days were full to overflowing.

But there seemed to be a hole in his life the past few years. At first he had put it down to his lack of a love interest, but the feeling had remained even when he found companionship with Abigail Brand. He had tried to fill the void with new hobbies, but he soon grew tired of such minor distractions. It was only as he started to interact with the university staff and students on a regular basis that he knew what was missing.

Like most scientists, he lived for sharing his knowledge with his peers. He’d missed that unique experience one could only have when another individual was able to grasp something you knew few others would. Intellectual hubris, maybe, but it re-awakened in him a love of science he thought lost.

Feeling a need to return to the hallowed halls on a more permanent basis, he had “let” the Dean persuade him to work as a guest lecture after his tour of academic duty was over.

And now, surrounded by “throngs” of adoring similar-minded nerds, Dr McCoy realised that his appearance didn’t matter that much to other scientists and students far too tired from hours of thankless toil to care about TMZ gossip.     

Just to be careful, though, he’d still opted to wear his image inducer whenever he was required for “official” university business. While most people knew he was blue and furry under the human facade, Hank found that strangers responded generally better when they weren’t distracted by his beastly countenance.

As another group of eager PhD candidates gathered around him, hoping to impress the world-renowned physicist with their newest ideas, Hank caught a fleeting glimpse of a familiar short figure helping a tall blond woman hand out drinks to the gathered guests. He believed Jubilation had introduced the amazon next to her as Donna.

True to her word, Jubilee had so far kept to her side of their bargain with a determination unusual for her. The notorious slacker mallrat had happily photocopied, referenced and typed every note, number and piece paper he’d handed her, and all sans her usual smart remarks. While Hank was riding high on the joys of academic recognition, Jubilee seemed content to help him out with whatever she was assigned.

“Content” was never a word he would never before have associated with that restless young woman.

What bothered him most was that there still seemed no rhyme or reason for Jubliee’s sudden interest in becoming a permanent fixture in the Columbia Physics Department. It was like she had woken up one morning with a fundamental part of her personality altered.

Still, Bobby and Hank were both impressed by the hours she was investing in the endeavour, having giving up her leisure time to take a number of extra classes at the institute.

After having “accidentally” overheard a particular loud argument between Jubilee and her cranky mentor two weeks before, Hank also knew the girl was considering an offer from one of her professors to work as his assistant, in return for which he'd tutor her for free.

Suffice it to say Logan hadn't been happy with the idea of his little girl spending hours alone with a strange man. The Canadian already complained that they saw far too little of the busy Jubilee these days.

As he autographed yet another rather greasy napkin for a bespeckled grad student, Hank’s eyes lingered on Jubilee across the room, watching her chat animatedly with the stoic Donna as they passed out small paper cups. Even with the amazon towering over her, Jubes still appeared older, almost camouflaging with the other young adults around her. Seeing her for the first time outside of the school that was their home, Hank marveled at how different she seemed – far too old to be considered the X-family’s token youngster, but still too young to be teaching basic combat training.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Jubilee looked up and rewarded him with a radiant smile and a happy wave before returning her attention to the thirsty patrons around her.

Distracted for a second by a question about the likelihood of space travel via black hole, when Hank looked up again he saw Donna was ordering around a new lacky. Jubilee had vanished.

He didn’t have to wonder at her sudden disappearance for long, though, for a few minutes later there was a firm tug at his jacket sleeve and Hank turned to find Jubilee with Shogo on her hip, the baby happily suckling at a lolly and smiling up at him.

Was it Ororo who’d noted that since Jubilee’s run-in with the Jersey Stalker and her short estrangement from her son, Shogo now rarely left his mother’s side? The boy was both figuratively and literally attached to his mother’s hip these days. Jokingly, Bobby had suggested the use of an industrial strength glue solvent to separate the twosome.

‘Hey Hank, could you like spare a second or two?’ asked Jubilee when she was sure she had her friend’s undivided attention.

Hank assured his circle of new friends that he would return shortly as he allowed Jubilee to lead him to the exit of the lecture hall. She ignored the jealous, miffed looks some of the PhD grades shot her way.

‘Sorry, Blue, but I thought you could use some help coming back down to Planet Earth,’ Jubliee teased as they made their way into the deeper recesses of Pupin Hall. ‘All that mindless adoration and love goes straight to the hips, you know?’

‘Jubilation, I will not have you besmirching my new fan club – with that attitude, I fear you won’t be invited to Twinkie Appreciation later.’

His tone might have sounded serious, but behind his glasses mirth danced in his blue eyes.

It was then he noticed that she was guiding him towards a bank of elevators. His interest was piqued.

‘So, other than fearing for my expanding waistline, why did you tear me away from the warm bosom of my adoring public?’

‘There's someone I’d like you to meet,’ she said, pressing the worn call button of the elevator a few times for good measure. Up on the seventh floor, Jubilee expected a rather shy Dr Holgersson was hiding from the festivities. Not even Donna’s commanding voice could convince the doctor to lend a hand.

Over the past two months, Jubilee had come to know the odd Swede quite well, spending every other weeknight in his company as they discussed and debated the problems with his newest paper. In return for being his sounding board, the doctor had offered to tutor her. Even with the "arrangement" working as well as it was, Jubes was still speechless when the physicist offered to make it “official”: he needed a new assistant to help him with some upcoming research and she, according to him, was the perfect fit.

Jubilee hadn’t given him an answer yet. After her and Logan’s last blowout she was surprised the Wolverine had let her off the grounds at all. Ororo reminded her that the macho, hairy X-Man was just trying to watch out for her.

As the elevator slowly groaned its way up the building, Jubilee felt a slight pang of guilt over her current scheme. During one of their late-night sessions, Dr Holgersson had confided in his student that, like his fellow alumni, he too quite admired the physicist-turned-Avenger in her company.

She, of course, offered to introduce him to his superhero idol, but the doctor quickly shied away from the opportunity, remarking that he didn’t feel it appropriate for someone like him to waste the time of such an important man. After all, Hank McCoy solved Fermat before breakfast. fought aliens after lunch and dined with Tony Stark for dinner. What would he possibly have to say?

Jubilee nearly died laughing at the shocked expression on his face when she’d explained that for some of her childhood, that same Avenger-slash-genius had spent hours trying to find the golden ratio between milk, ice cream and Twinkies to perfect the sweetest, thickest milkshake in the history of mankind.

But no matter how hard Jubes tried, she could not convince the stubborn Swede that the Beast was really a down-to-earth kind of guy. So, she decided if the professor would not go to the Beast, the Beast would come to him.  

The seventh floor was deserted, with most of the offices locked, as the staff were rubbing shoulders the dignitaries a few floors below. Far down the hall, one lonely light shone from under a door, and thudding beats pounded through the thin plasterboard walls.

‘Dear me,’ asked Hanj, his sensitive ears magnifying the din. ‘Is that a viking horde invading?’

Jubilee merely shook her head. ’If only. You can at least fight a viking horde. Nothing short of bashing your own head in will stop _that_ nonsense.’

As the two X-Men made their way towards the light, Jubilee could already guess at the sight that would greet them. Dr Holgersson was most likely sitting at his old department-issue PC, his brow furrowed, reddened eyes peeking over rimless glasses as his furiously typed away at some overdue paper or other while snacking on whatever sweet thing he could get his hands on during lunch.

At the door, the firecracker signaled for Hank to wait just out of sight. When she knocked and opened to peek inside, the doctor didn’t even notice, contining to strike the keys on the aging keyboard like they owned him some money and it was collection day.

On hearing some of his favourite tunes blasting from the part-opened door, Shogo let out a series delighted tonal “Buhs” in beat with the cacophony. The incongruous sound roused the Swede from his work. Turning to face the door, he finally noticed Jubilee and Shogo and rushed to lower the volume to a more respectable level on his iPod/speaker combo. It was the only thing in the cramped office that wasn’t out of the stone age.

At seeing the pained expression that marked the young mother’s face, Mattias had all the review he needed for Mithotyn’s classic album _In the Sign of the Ravens_.

‘Well, you might not appreciate it, but Shogo understands the brilliance of viking metal,’ said Mattias as he stood to greet the pair, and reached out to tickle a chubby baby foot. The boy giggled in response and instinctively reached for the doctor. Resigned, Jubilee handed the baby over, and Mattias happily took his excited musical accomplice off his mother hands.

‘Yeah, because babies are great judges of musical quality.’

‘You don't have to like it, Miss Lee,’ said Mattias as he lowered his eyes to give the boy a conspiratorial look. ‘Shogo and I will keep this between us men.’

 

Shogo burped back in agreement. His mother merely rolled her eyes and muttered something about ‘men’ under her breath.

‘So what can I do for the two of you? I thought you’d be downstairs with the other layabouts. Donna's going to be pissed if she finds you up here. Weren’t you roped in to help with the refreshments?’

‘I've been given a brief stay of execution. I need to be back down there in a few minutes, but I wanted you to meet someone first.’

Before Mattias could ask who, she took Shogo back in her arms and stepped aside to make room for one and only Dr Henry McCoy.

Jubilee wished she had a camera to record her normally unflappable lecturer's expression. His jaw didn't drop like in so many Wile E Coyote cartoons, but her super-sensitive hearing did pick up his heart skipping a beat or two.

‘Dr Mattias Holgersson,’ she said smugly, ‘I'd like to introduce you to the man who got me through high school maths, Dr Henry McCoy. Hank, this is Dr Holgersson, my statistics and probability professor – and current victim.’

‘You have my sincerest condolences,’ Hank sympathised as he held out his hand for the clearly dumbstruck Mattias to shake. ‘Having taught this delinquent for last few years, I do not envy you your mammoth task.’

Mattias could barely believe he was shaking hands with the legend himself.

Trying his best to sound like an normal human being, he managed to croak out: ‘‘It’s not so bad, we'll beat stats into her somehow.’

‘Hey!’ Jubilee protested, as both men gave her a doubtful look.

What followed was a pleasant yet slightly awkward few minutes of small talk between the two scientists. While Mattias found Dr McCoy friendly enough, he just couldn’t shake the feeling he was somehow being scrutinized and judged.

Hank asked about Mattias’ upcoming paper, his alternative music choices, and his accent. The Swede, in return, and grasping for something to talk about, decided to stick to university matters, asking after Hank's plans for the upcoming lecture tour. And as payback for the ambush, he did risk asking about his student's childhood years; the answers made the single mother blush three different shades of red.

Just as Jubes was about to remind them that she was still technically on duty downstairs and that she had basically “genius-napped” the guest of honour, Hank noticed the short sequence hastily scribbled on the smudged  whiteboard over Mattias’ shoulder.

‘Fascinating...’ he murmured as he tried to decipher the peculiar sequence of numbers with no success. He was about to take a closer look when, as if of one mind, both the young doctor and Jubilee moved to block his view of the board, ruining his chances of exploring those stimulating algorithms any further.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hank apologised, ‘I did not mean to pry.’

‘It’s quite alright, she just isn’t finished,’ Mattias reassure him. ‘I’m not quite ready for anyone to see her yet.’

Hank returned a quizzical look. ‘She?’

Hoping to spare the doctor any further embarrassment, Jubilee stepped in.

‘Dr Holgersson believes equations are like women – beautiful, but terribly fickle.’

Next to her the doctor turned scarlet and wished the earth would swallow him up whole.

Before either doctors could say anything else, Jubilee hurriedly thanked her professor for his time and then not-so-softly shooed Hank out of the office, leaving the doctor to his writing and his music.

As they made their way back to the party downstairs, Jubes waxed on about the professor and his research, while Hank pondered on his short encounter with his fellow physicist.

When Jubilation had first mentioned the doctor in passing months before, when he had saved her and Shogo from a potentially freezing wait in the cold, Hank had pictured a rather homely, balding middle-aged professor with thick-rimmed glasses perched on a hooked nosed.

Now, after meeting the young man, the Beast wanted to kick himself repeatedly for being such a dunce. Not all professors where halitosis-breathing nerds! Even Hank himself had graduated at a rather young age while still having his fair share of casual Friday night dates.

Hank found himself ill-prepared for the boyish-looking physicist who shook his hand. Mattias could not have been out of his mid-twenties. With his jacket over his band T-shirt and black chinos, Dr Holgersson resembled one of his students far more than a member of the faculty.

The second shock of the evening had come when he witnessed Jubilee handing over Shogo to the stocky Swede without a second thought. All too familiar with the vampire mother’s overprotective tendencies, her behaviour had tilted his vision of the world ever so slightly.

Jubilation Lee never let anyone hold her son that wasn’t a close member of the X-Family. Not harmless old ladies at the mall that thought Shogo was just as cute as a button. Not other mothers who yearned for another baby of their own. Not even most of the school’s student body. Jubilee was not easily parted from her boy.

Yet she had handed Shogo over to Mattias like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a second, Hank had been tempted to check whether Lady Mastermind was hiding behind that awful looking couch.

Jubilee’s relaxed manner with the doctor had also surprised him. Although their interaction was not overly friendly in any creepy way, it lacked the usual core of snark and attitude that he had come to know as a Lee trademark when dealing with people outside the institute. Her demeanour towards the doctor was far closer to her true, unguarded personality. She joked and ribbed the man in much the same way as she would with Bobby or Sam.

On top of all that, her easy reddening at the doc’s gentle teasing was a downright wonder. Hank had always lived under the mistaken impression that the only person in the world that could make the overly cynically twenty-year-old blush was a certain honey-tongued Cajun.

In the short period they’d been in that office, Hank McCoy had seen aspects of the firecracker’s personality he had never really considered. She was sweet yet serious, slightly nervous but still confident. For a brief few moments he saw her not as everyone's favourite kid sister, but as the adult she was becoming – a reflection of the X-Women who helped raise her. Jeannie would’ve been proud.

As for a relationship blossoming between the awkward but friendly Swede and the school’s resident vampire? Well, that was a notion Hank found himself not minding that much. Definitely no reason to mention it to Logan.

As Jubilee lead him back into the welcoming embrace of his adoring public, Hank tried to calculate at how long it would be before Dr Mattias Holgersson was a regular attendee at the dinner table.

The scientist had missed one vital variable, though, for as the young mother left his side to rejoin Donna at the refreshments table, she very nearly knocked over David Kelly. The handsome Harvard law graduate, liberal mutant rights advocate and nephew of one Robert Kelly. A man on the fast track to becoming the youngest junior senator ever. And the man who would make it his life’s work to successfully woo one Jubilation Lee.

* * *

  _So yeah...David Kelly...didn't see that coming...I'm sure you're all going to love him – his such a nice guy after all. Who wants a stuffy old professor, when you can have a future senator instead? ;)_

_**Next Time:** White Lights Part 2! _


	11. Chapter Eleven: Interlude: White Lights: Part Two

_**Housekeeping:**_ What?! An update? I know, right?! I'm as surprised as you are.

So this is part two of White Lights, which picks up the morning after part one.

I'm calling this one a character piece or somethin' - it was suppose to be more action packed, but the whole thing just became to long and convoluted, so I did some Ming the Merciless triage and I feel better about where it's heading now. (Really how much in-depth buffet talk did we really need?) To make sure it's all comprehensible there will be a White Lights part three down the line.

_Have fun!_

* * *

  _ **Chapter 11: Interlude - White Lights: Part Two**_

_******* _

 “ _A fractal is a never-ending pattern. Infinitely complex - they are created by repeating a simple process over and over in an ongoing feedback loop. Driven by recursion, fractals are images of dynamic systems – the pictures of Chaos.” -_ _ **Fractal Foundation**_

_*******_  

_***...* Indicates telepathic speech.** _

  _ **New York, Years before:**_

The shrieking alarm pierced the calm of the hotel room and woke Jean with a start. The man next to her, groggy and groaning, reached over her to kill the offending noise.

Over the years, Scott Summers had learned that the woman sharing his bed didn’t appreciate starting her mornings by sweeping fragments of alarm clock from the carpet. While effective in stopping super-powered foes, optic blasts were just not practical in a domestic setting.

With the shrilling alarm silenced, Jean felt the muscled torso next to hers defiantly slide back deep under the covers. While Cyclops might have been the poster boy for all things square – punctuality chief among them - the man behind the visor still would have preferred to sleep in.

It was moments like these, the rare unguarded glimpses of her future husband’s character, that reminded her exactly what she loved about him.

Turning to hug him, Jean relished the feeling as his arms folded around her, Scott's warm presence in her mind at one with the easy physical intimacy between them, like a blanket on a cold night.

‘Time to get up,’ she reminded her lover with a whisper, preparing to disentangle herself from his stubborn embrace.

He let out another groan, followed by a sullen: ‘Do we have to?’

‘Someone might notice if we’re not there.’

‘I happen to know a sexy redhead that can make it so they won't even notice.’

‘That’s not very ethical,’ she countered, trying to smother a girlish giggle into his chest as his fingers traced their way up her spine.

‘Might not be ethical, but it’s a damn good idea.’

For a moment, Jean gave herself over to the feeling of his nimble fingers weaving their way through her sleep-knotted hair. When she was younger, the thought of anyone seeing her in any way less than perfect scared the hell out of her. But now she welcomed these moments when it was just the two them, and she didn’t care if there were bags under her eyes or if her freckles were showing.

With a sigh, she pulled herself from his embrace. ‘Luckily you’re on our side, Mr Summers,’ she said, tilting her head to lay a soft kiss on his rough stubbled chin.

Before Scott could make another grab for her, she gave him a good-natured telekinetic nudge out of the bed.

 

Although he would never have admitted it, Scott Summers hated mornings. Mornings meant leaving the arms of his loving fiancé, early workouts, grumpy teammates and all the responsibilities that came along with leading the X-Men.

Not even the spacious, lavish suite Charles had insisted on for his oldest students made the transition from night to day any better, for all that lay ahead were hours of mind-numbing speeches and FOH members shouting offensive anti-mutant propaganda at the top of their lungs.

Making his way to the bathroom, Scott was grateful to find the tiles beneath his bare feet comfortably warm. Yes, there were those tiny touches that made a penthouse suite worth it. Warren called them the perks of a productive life; Cyclops considered them needlessly indulgent, at least in principle.

As he stepped into the steaming tiled space of the shower, he tried to pull a passing Jean in with him, but she swatted his hands away, muttering something about being late.

‘I’ll make it quick,’ he promised, giving her his best lothario look behind his ruby quartz goggles, the corners of his eyes crinkled mischieviously.

The object of his attention shook her fiery mane.

’Now what would be the fun in that?’ she teased before blowing him a kiss and leaving him alone in the steamy bathroom to finish his shower.

  
Stepping out of their suite an half hour later, the couple were the image of  professionalism. Scott, dressed in a dark grey tailored business suit, was swoon-worthy enough, but he was eclipsed by the vision beside him. In a tasteful green minidress, tweed jacket and high heels, Jean Grey was the epitome of effortless perfection. The skirt’s shorter length highlighted her toned legs and curves, while the jacket's high collar invited the eye to travel up her slender neck, past a pair of jade drop-earrings and up to her simple slicked-backed red ponytail.

Making their way towards the elevators, the couple found a similar smartly dressed Rogue and Remy waiting for the next ride down. As the women chatted about the previous day’s shopping, the ex-thief casually leaned against the wall, and Scott had to suppress a grumble of annoyance as he sensed the Cajun’s eyes slyly roaming his fiancé’s figure. Or he assumed that’s what he was up to; you never could tell with those strange eye always hidden behind those damnable shades.

Downstairs, the breakfast room was filled with fellow hungry guests piling plates high from the Hilton’s overflowing buffet. In a far corner, the group spotted the rest of their party. As the others were tucking into their morning meal, Charles Xavier was only picking at his food, too busy making notes and planning the day's meetings to care about something as menial as basic nourishment. Ever so often he’d pass something to the blue doctor to his left, who had his own steadily growing stack. To the professor’s right were two empty seats, a nod to the mansion’s unofficial but usual seating plan.

Pouring a cup of black coffee to go along with his bowl of porridge, Scott took his customary seat on the Charles Xavier's right-hand side.

‘Morning, professor,’ he said in greeting to his mentor as he rummaged through the jumble of sugar packets, hoping to find a sachet of brown sugar for his porridge. While he usually prefered it with just a splash of milk, the dark, caramelised goodness was a small extravagance he allowed himself on certain occasions.

‘Morning, Scott,’ replied the telepath around a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving the diary book before him. Then, as an afterthought: ‘Did you sleep well? How’s the room? I hear the view of the river is lovely.’

Jean, who was taking the seat next to her betrothed, flashed the older man a stunning smile and answered for Scott: ‘It’s perfect, thank you. The champagne was lovely, too. You really shouldn’t have.’

Charles looked up from his reading to return her warm smile, ’As I told you: consider it an early wedding present, you deserve it. I’m just glad you’re enjoying it.’ He then promptly returned to his notes.

Still rummaging through the mishmash of sugar packets, Scott took a moment to notice even Jean was indulging her sweet tooth with a plate of sugary pastries and a second bowl brimming with fresh fruit. While he was never one to complain about curves on a woman, Scott did wonder where she put it all; he dreaded the day she’d ask him “Does this spandex make my butt look big?”

Returning his attention to his own breakfast, Scott shot the worthless sugar caddy and his bland porridge a disgusted look and picked up his spoon. But before he could dip it into the sludge, Jean took a gentle hold of his wrist.

‘Rogue?’ she called for the southern belle at the other end of the table.

‘Yes, sugah?’

‘Is there any brown sugar on your side?’

‘Let’s see… Splenda, Sweet ‘n Low, white, maple, Equal, and…’ – she paused for dramatic effect as she pulled out the last packet – ‘brown!’

Jean returned a grateful smile as Rogue passed the sachet down the table. Scott then watched as she tore it open and sprinkled the contents on his neglected porridge - and proceeded to dump half of her fruit bowl right on top. Ignoring his stunned look as he stared down at his bowl, she pecked him on the cheek.

‘You can use all the sweetness you can get,’ she whispered with with a wink, hiding her wry smile behind a steaming cup of Earl Grey.

Around them there was a spatter of polite breakfast conversation as everyone either tucked into their food or milled around the buffet, ignoring Remy's flirting - and Bobby’s less fruitful attempts to attract the interest of the cuter hotel staff.

Midway through smearing his third bagel with something incredibly calorific, Hank noticed the empty space next to the Iceman.

‘Would it not be prudent for someone to wake Jubilation?’ asked the doctor. ‘She’s awfully waspish when she misses breakfast - brought on by instances of acute hypoglycemia, I believe.’

‘She’s not there, sugah,’ said Rogue, momentarily distracted from scowling at the nearest pretty waitress to her Cajun beau. ‘Gal’s bed was empty when ah got up. She’s probably around - Jeannie can always give her the ol’ psi holler if she doesn’t turn up.’

‘Someone might wanna... _munch_...check the gift shop,’ Bobby added through a mouthful of scrambled egg and toast, ‘just in case she’s trying to... _gulp_..max out the institute credit card again.’

The remark earned him varying degrees of admonishing glares from those X-Men that were more forgiving of the erstwhile mallrat's shopping habits. But Bobby, not the least bit discouraged, ignored it as he stole a piece of toast off Hank’s plate. The doctor rolled his eyes and was about to tell his incorrigible friend to unhand his breakfast when a woman dressed in the the Hilton’s signature dark maroon blazer walked up to the table.

‘Professor Xavier?’ she inquired, bending ever so slightly as the X-mentor’s side.

‘Yes?’

‘This message was left for you at the front desk.’

Charles took the slip of paper from the woman and frowned as he read. While receiving a message at such an early hour was in itself was not an odd occurrence - since the start of the conference, requests from other dignitaries and journalists had been arriving in a steady flow - this particular note was written in a large, swirly script of a younger hand and was addressed to _Chuck_. Charles doubted he was _that_ familiar with any of delegates.

The short note read:

_Yo Chuck,_

_Gone To MoMa. Taking the M train._

_Catch you guys at lunch._

_Smell ya later._

_J :)))))))_

Then there was a space and an even more hastily scribbled:

( _Pls turn over!!!)_

Shaking his head, the professor dutifully did as instructed.

_PS Bishop's tagging along. Don't worry, I'll look after him._

‘Professor, is something wrong?’ asked Scott.

The telepath passed the note along to the one codenamed Cyclops, who inspected it intensely as if it were a plan for world domination, before crumpling it up in his fist.

‘How many times do we have to tell her? She needs to check in before she takes off!’

There was an uncomfortable shuffle around the table. An irritated fearless leader was never a good thing: he might just decide to take his frustrations out on you.

Jean, who had gleaned the message’s contents through their psi-report, placed a calming hand on her irked fiancé’s clenched hand.

‘Jubilee is trying, Scott. She’s just not used to having to ask for permission. Sometimes she gets carried away and it slips her mind.’

The fist under her touch did not relax.

‘Jean’s right, Scott,’ added Xavier. ‘I'll have a talk with Jubilation at lunch. Bishop is with her; I'm sure he'll keep an eye on her.’

A strangled gurgle of air left Scott’s constricted throat. ‘You’re too soft on her - that girl has no respect for authority.’

Lowering his papers, Charles Xavier laid a stern gaze on the boy he’d come to think of as a son. From a young age he had cultivated and encouraged Cyclops’ serious streak, but at times his inflexibility grated even on the professor's nerves.

‘Be that as it may, Scott, considering all the child's been though, I do believe that under the circumstances, a modicum of understanding on our part is not wholly unwarranted.’

Cyclops shook his head in disbelief. Didn’t they understand? The safety of this slip of a waif was his responsibility. The girl had an unnerving habit of hurling herself headlong into danger behind her craggy cigar-chomping mentor without a second thought. Trouble and chaos seemed to be attracted to her on a molecular level. The whole thing was downright disturbing. He needed to make the others see, and a tiny lightbulb clicked on in his mind.

‘And what if she decides to try and give MoMa a new skyline again?’

This time the uncomfortable shuffle of cutlery had nothing to do with their leader’s temper, but rather that of his fiancée. Jean had made clear to everyone that no one was to breathe a word of the MoMa incident to Cyclops. Knowing how he felt about the teenager, the telepath wasn’t about to strain the delicate truths that existed between the two even more.

Jean’s green eyes scanned the table, narrowing when she noticed Bobby was no longer shoveling food into his mouth as if he were a human garbage disposal. The young man made the mistake of meeting her eyes and the Iceman shivered.

* _We’ll talk later_ ,* the redhead projected coldly.

* _I didn’t mean to, it just..._ *

He didn’t get to finish as the link was abruptly severed and Jean returned to sipping her tea.

From across the table, Hank McCoy contemplated Scott as he watched him eat his breakfast in an almost mechanical motion. His childhood friend was not always an easy man to get along with; his unremitting loyalty to the team and his family often placed an extraordinary amount of strain on Scott, both physically and mentally, and did not make him the easiest individual with whom to form a rapport. While the older members of the team had become used to - and in the midst of battle even relied upon - their leader’s unbinding will, Hank doubted if the newer and more free-spirited members of the team would share that understanding attitude. Realising that someone had to help Storm and Jean build bridges between the differing factions in mansions, Hank decided to contribute as the voice of logic and reason.

‘Scott, yesterday was a mere slip in her concentration. All young mutants have them. Jubilation has made considerable progress in maintaining her control these past few months. She indeed is trying.’

Scott’s spoon hit the porridge bowl below him with a clank.

‘Trying, Hank? How long is she going to keep trying?’

Sensing Jean’s soothing presence move into his mind, Scott mentally shrugged her off, effectively shutting her out.

‘Tell me, Hank, when exactly can I expect her to finally graduate from trying to doing?’

‘Oh for the love of all things holy, she's only thirteen and...'

'And Kitty was only fourteen!'

‘It is hardly fair to compare the two, Scott. They are as attitudinally opposed as night and day.’

‘Yes, one is disciplined and can follow basic instructions, while the other is a complete juvenile delinquent.’

Hank smothered a frustrated growl. Though he had sympathy for the other man’s position, there were days that he wished to compress Cyclops’ larynx for just a few seconds.

‘That's _enough_ ,’ said Charles firmly, cutting them off. The professor rarely needed to raise his voice - since the X-Men’s teenage years it had been ingrained into their psyches to respect it at normal volume.

‘But professor...'

‘I said _enough,_ Scott.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he relented, and all around the table colleagues braced themselves for a long day with their disgruntled fearless leader. The remainder of breakfast was bad enough, as a tense atmosphere permeated that table in the far corner, everyone waiting for the other boot to drop. But it was followed by an even worse morning security briefing. In the mutated eyes of their leader, no one could do or say anything right, and after forty long minutes the team were relieved to escape from Cyclops’ overly critical gaze. The unspoken consensus was that they’d all rather face a riotous anti-mutant mob then spend a minute more with an ornery Scott Summers.

The lone highlight of the morning was Rogue’s exasperation. ‘Ah swear there are days that man is so full of shit his eyeballs turn brown,’ she blurted, causing the Iceman to gag and splutter on his soda and leaving him in a fit of laughter all the way to the rental van. He spent the rest of the morning snickering whenever Scott came in to view, leaving the other man to contemplate why the ice mutant was trying to peek behind his glasses.

The rest of the day was a hectic mess, with Friends of Humanity members hurling venomous insults and misinformation with equal ferocity. The small security detail were forced to intervene more than once to keep the furious protesters from coming too close to their X-mentor.

By mid afternoon, the parking lot was erupting into a flow-blown riot, with frequent clashes between angry protesters on both sides. What according to the police was supposed to be a safe exit route from the building was now a swarm of angry bodies.

‘Where the hell is Bishop when we need the giant lug?’ Bobby yelled over the din of FOH megaphones as he struggled to subdue a placard-wielding bigot.

The Cajun swung his bow staff in wide sweeping arcs before him, trying to force back the baying mob. ‘Pup wasn’t schedul’ta work, Drake!’

‘Well between you, me and two hundred of our new "friends" here' – Iceman ducked to avoid a clumsy right-hook – 'if I was sent back from you-know-where to protect the professor, you know where I'd be today? Right freakin' here!’

From behind them came a painful yelp of surprise as a pro-mutant protester who to cop a feel of Rogue in the maelstrom was rewarded with his wrist being twisted at an unhealthy angle.

‘Oh no ya don’t - y’all need to buy a gal dinner first!’

The protester uttered a deep moan of regret.

‘Jeannie! Watch your front, girl,’ the belle hollered. ‘Some of these boys ain’t got no manners.’

The telepath didn’t reply, too occupied with telekinetically shielding the professor and herself from harm as the X-Men inched their way towards their waiting van.

In the end it took the better part of twenty minutes to move the short distance from the rear door of the venue to the vehicle, the crowd only parting when a thoroughly annoyed Beast sent a nailed baseball-bat wielding FOH member flying through the air onto his equally odious companions.

Beast knew he’d get an earful about his temper from both the professor and Cyclops at a later juncture, but that small act of defiance had scratched a mental itch he had borne since the first uneducated bigot opened his big mouth to chant disgusting slurs on day one of the conference.

  
High above the street, hidden from view, a lone assassin watched as the rental van made a speedy exit from the conference centre’s the parking lot. He would have preferred to take out Xavier in the chaos of the riot, but they had their orders - the pro-mutant activist would live at least one more day.

* * *

 

_**Next Time:** _ _Guess who's coming to dinner. Introducing David Kelly . How will the X-family react to their firecracker dating a Kelly?_


	12. Chapter Twelve: And Sorry Seems...

_**Housekeeping:**_ This chapter takes place right after Chapter 10: Meeting of Minds...

Reader: _'Hold it! Hey, wait, wasn't the blurb for this chapter “Guess who's coming to dinner...”? Why are we still at Hank's party?_

Beezzi: _*Angelic Smile* Well you know...best laid plans of mice and fan fiction writers..._

Reader: _*Eye Roll*_

OK...so...the original idea for Jubes and David's first meeting was _way_ more condensed and incredibly stupid. Poor ol' David was nothing more than a plot device and not a breathing person.

So I chucked out the old David Kelly and gave the new one some hopes, dreams and...oh...a personality.

Trust me, it's a massive improvement. And don't worry – David will come to dinner at some point.

_Have Fun!_

* * *

  _ **Chapter Twelve: And Sorry Seems…**_

‘My God, David, are you alright?’ asked Manfred Garu, his puffy features turning an uncomfortable dark shade of red as he made quite the show of trying to dry off the young man. The assembled guests who had witnessed the girl colliding with him instantly drew closer and quieter, just in case something gossip worthy happened.

‘I’m fine, Manfred, really,’ David assured him, as he tried to avoid the napkin the professor was waving dangerously close to his groin, ‘It was an accident.’

‘Miss Lee, you really should be more careful,’ said Garu as he turned his head to admonish the fresher at his side. She was mortified, hoping to look repentant while attempting to wipe the sticky alcohol from tiny hands of the boy in her arms. The infant ignored her as he tried to pop a sweet fist into his mouth.

‘Shogo… No... Don’t put that in your mouth.’

Garu, far more concerned with his own and the universities reputation, was unmoved by her dilemma. ‘What if David was hurt?’ he muttered in an angry whisper. ‘You should apologise... ’

‘It's OK _,_ Manfred,’ David interrupted, ‘and in any case it’s me who should be apologising to the lady. After all, I did stumbled into her.’

Unusual blue eyes shot up to meet his brown in confusion.

‘But I...’

‘...had the misfortune of having me bungle into you. I’ll of course pay for your dry cleaning.’

Dumbstruck, the small woman glanced down at her simple black sheath of a dress, as if trying to understand why anyone would pay to dry clean something from the Gap.

‘Thanks,' she blurted, 'but I’ll just shove it in the wash.’

Jubliee hoped she looked appropriately grateful; he had just saved her rear from Dr Garu’s firing squad.

With the “incident” seemingly handled without any major fallout, and as the curious bodies around the room went back to their glasses of bubbly and hors d'oeuvres, David gave the girl an encouraging nod and smile before leading the still floundering Garu away. And as the young man waxed on about the possibilities of future monetary contributions, the head of the physics department forgot about the spillage and his eyes glazed over with dreams of fancy department dinners, new computers and maybe a foosball table for the staff room.

David, however, never let the girl stray far from his sight, keeping a subtle tab on her as she moved around the room.And he was doubly intrigued when the guest of honour approached her and took the boy from her arms so she could clean his sticky face and hands with a wet wipe.

Henry McCoy must have uttered something encouraging, because the girl’s drooping shoulders straightened and the doctor was rewarded with the slight smirk which lit up the woman’s delicate Asian features from within. She and McCoy obviously had some kind of relationship, and David felt an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Distracted, he nearly missed a question from Garu as he traced the outline of her surprisingly toned arms, watching her lift the boy from the taller doctor’s hold.

As she turned and headed for the refreshment table, David had just enough wherewithal to deflect a funding related hint, before his eyes were drawn again to the understated curves of her retreating figure.

She asked something of the blond in charge of refreshments, who rolled her eyes before waving her away, and David’s flirtation with voyeurism ended as the object of his interest scurried out a side door.

* * *

 The vampirewas having a bang-up evening.

After the “incident” she’d left to hall in search of something better than dried-out wet wipes to soak up the champagne that still clung to her and Shogo. Unfortunately, it seemed the university facilities had run out of disposable hand towels earlier in the festivities.

That had left her and the boy, seated in his stroller,in the walled courtyard garden outside Pupin Hall’stoilets with only a bottle of water and some cheap toilet tissue: paper so recycled that it disintegrated on contact with even a drop of water and left little bits of white fluff sticking to her black dress and her son's fluffy Chewy onesie.

This is why she chose not to drink. No matter how careful you were, too often did the evening end with you stinking of cheap booze in a back alley, precariously balancing on dangerously high heels, kneeling in you-know-what. At least this time Jono wasn't holding her hair back while he bitched about responsible drinking.

_Ah yes, the New Warriors’ golden years._

Balling up the last bit of useless paper and chucking it in the nearby bin, Jubilee softlysniffed the air around her son and was overwhelmed by the acidic tinge of the fermented grapes. There was no way around it: the poor kid still smelled like he'd gone snorkeling in a barrel of California's finest chablis. What would Miss Pinkerton from social services have to say about this?

'I don't know how your granpa Wolvie does this,' she said. A disgusted Shogo wrinkled his button nose and belched an affirmative 'buh'.

Behind the pair, the door to the men's room opened and someone stepped into the courtyard. Jubilee, far more concerned with the state of her son, didn't spare a glance behind her. It wasn't like she couldn't take any of the tipsy, spongy suits still hanging around.

The person milled around the door for a second and then, much to the young mother's annoyance, she heard his footsteps headed her way.

'Look, I'm not in the mood,' Jubilee warned the approaching figure, not bothering to face him. _Just what I need right now_ , she thought, _an overly friendly Daddy Warbucks looking for a quickie_.

'Why don't you save whatever lame pickup line you've trademarkedfor one of the co-eds inside. I'm _not_ interested.'

Her tone was harsher than she intended, but the sharp aroma in the air was starting to overwhelm her undead senses.

There was a amused masculine snort and Jubilee rolled her eyes. She knew that tone. _Great_ , she thought, _this one thinks his Casa-freakin'-nova..._

'I _said...'_

'And I heard you.'

The man's voice was deep, warm and held none of the superior snark that marked so many of the guests.

'First you dump a gallon of swill on me and then you call me lame. What exactly did I do to piss you off again?'

_Damn_ … damnity damn damn. Jubilee wanted to bang her head against the nearest wall – this night was just turning out "super".

'Hi,' David said encouragingly as the acidic pixie turned slowly and glanced upwards. At seeing her sheepish expression, he gave the the small woman his best inherited “vote for me” smile.

'Uhm...hi...' Jubilee mumbled, while trying to stand with as much grace as her short dress and heels would allow her.

_I bet 'Ro and Frosty never had these problems._

The man gallantly offered his hand to steady her. When she was sufficientlyrighted, he held on to it a moment longer then necessary before letting go and stepping away. He settled on the low brick wall that surrounded the courtyard, and Jubilee got her first real opportunity to study the catalyst that had flipped her pleasant evening on its head.

Oddly enough, the first thing that struck her was _not_ his perfectly square jaw, the tanned skin or his general level of chiselediness, but rather that he seemed oddly familiar. Had she seen him before? In GQ, maybe? Parading around in a skimpy pair of Calvins?

In spite of his youthful appearance - his jacket carelessly slung across his arm, his tie hanging loosely to reveal an unbuttoned collar, the slightly smug glint in his eyes – the stranger’s fashionable messy hair was already sprouting silvering threads around his temples. Was it premature aging that had cut his modeling career short?

David didn’t say anything as the silence grew between them, too intent on watching the dusky winter light skim across her skin. Earlier, in the hall, she’d seemed alien to the environment around her, standing out against the grey canvas of party guests - an outsider trying to blend in. But here, in the corner of the courtyard, with shadows and moonlight appearing to cling to her pale skin, pooling in those remarkable cerulean eyes, she fit.

‘SCHHHLUUUUUP!’

The spell was broken by the slurping sounds the infant made as he noisily sucked the last drops of juice from his bottle. Then by the futile movements of the mother’s hands as she returned to wiping the tiny white fibres from her dress.

‘Here, try this,’ David offered, pulling a folded handkerchief from his suit pocket. ‘That stuff sticks like tar on a warm day, I couldn’t get it off, either. Someone needs to educate Manfred on the quality of what he’s serving or Columbia's Science Department needs to provide some sort of industrial solvent to rinse it off with.’

Hesitantly, she took the offered material, wetted it and dutifully returned to the boy’s side. Shogo gurgled unhappily after a few wipes and let out a grumpy whine, having had enough pampering for one evening. Giving up, the girl did her best to try and de-lint her own frock.

‘Babysitting your younger brother?’ David asked, risking a stab in the dark; the nymph seemed awfully young, after all.

‘Brother?’

The question caught her off guard. To Jubilee, a single child, the brother concept was foreign and for a moment the only picture her mind could conjure was that of Iceman, dressed in a diaper, sucklling on adult-size pacifier. Understanding finally dawned when she followed the man’s gaze,

’Oh, no… This sticky little Wookiee is my son.’

Jubilee didn’t mind having to correct the man. He wasn't the first to question her relation to the kid: her frozen teenage appearance, gymnast height and lack of family resemblance had led a few curious strangers to figuring Shogo for an adopted sibling.

David seemed to need some time to process this new information – and to recalculate her age – so the vampire chose to busy herself with trying to save her ruined dress with the handkerchief.

‘Thanks,’ she said after a minute, handing back the slip of monogrammed material. The initials caught her eye for a moment.

_Mmm… DRK…._

‘Please, keep it, I’ve loads.’

‘Sorry for what I said before...’ – not meeting his eye, she stuffed the soiled hanky into a hidden pocket – ‘and for bumping into you earlier.’

‘As I said inside, it was nothing. Anyway, it’s my fault for not throwing that cocktail of evil into the first pot plant I saw.’

There was a slightest upwards twitch from the corners of her shapely mouth. ‘But still, I really should be paying for _your_ dry cleaning.’

David off-handedlyskimmed his 2014 custom tailored Logsdail of London suit. ‘What, This old thing? Been in the back of my closet for years.’

This time she actually smiled. 'Why is it that everytime I try to apologise, you find a way to stop me?'

'Because there is nothing to apologise for. It was an accident. Everyone has bad days.'

From the pure confidence he exuded, Jubes doubted this golden boy had ever experienced an awkward moment since his expulsion from the womb.

‘I feel responsible, though. You did get stuck with Garu’ – a fate, Dr Holgersson had informed her, far worse than death.

‘I can handle Manfred. You just need to know how many zeros to add to the department petty cash. But...’ – and David paused, a devilish grin showing of perfect teeth – ‘if you really want to make it up to me, how about dinner?’

‘That’s not a good idea,’ she said, searching in vain for an excuse. ‘I’m really busy and… umm… it’s so hard to find a Wookiee babysitter this time of year.’

Jubilee knew the excuse was flimsy, but she hoped the obvious fakeness would dissuade him. The prospect of her vampire/single mother self on the dating scene was one that Logan had flatly refused to entertain.

In any case, this boy wonder didn’t buy it. ‘OK, dinner's out – what about a cup of coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, java, qahioa, café...’ – there was a playful lilt to his tone – ‘...as in the rich, dark, substance brewed from the roasted beans of the coffea bush, most likely first cultivated in the 13th century, brought to America in the 16th century by Dutch traders, and today sipped in over-hyped italian bars by yuppie New Yorkers who don't know the first thing about percolation.’  

He was rewarded with a deadpan glare. ‘Thanks for the dissertation, professor.’

‘And my economics tutor said my thesis on “The Impact of Historical Coffee Trade on Modern Markets” would never come in handy.’

‘It hasn't. I happen to know what coffee is.’

‘Brilliant, then I’ll meet you in the Starbucks across campus for a cup on say...Monday?’

‘I don’t have class on a Monday.’

‘Tuesday?’

‘I’m washing my hair.’

‘Hmm… Wednesday?’

‘Balancing the ol’ cheque book.’

‘Thursday, maybe?’

‘No luck, I’m getting the Beetle’s tires rotated.’

‘Your schedule just overflowing with menial tasks, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, sorry, can’t get a spare moment to myself.’

‘Which is exactly why you should put your feet up, blow off whatever frivolous chore you have planned for Friday and come have coffee with me instead.’

‘You’re very persistent.’

‘I heard it pays off.’

David laughed, pulling himself from his spot on the wall and moving closer to the evasive nymph - no way he was letting her slip away without getting her number.

'Look, believe it or not, but I don't usually ask women out on dates outside university bathrooms. I find it sends the wrong message.'

She smirked despite herself. 'And what message would you like to send?'

'That I'm a nice guy, who hates drinking overpriced, stale coffee on my own.'

'So I'd only be going along to save you from boredom?'

'Oh no, I've found that stimulating conversation and the right companionship can improve even the the worst cup of joe.'

David took a step closer to the girl.

'You invite a lot of “companions” to Starbucks?'

He didn't miss a beat: 'Only the beautiful ones who pore cheap champagne down my pants.'

'You think you’re pretty slick, don't ya?.'

She inched closer.

'Maybe. How am I doing?'

'C-minus.'

At her answer he looked like a kicked puppy and she took pity on the man,

'OK… C-plus, for effort.'

‘C-plus? That’s rough. I’ve always thought my material was at least B-plus-worthy. It seems I’ll have to start fresh - maybe hire a Hollywood writer or two.’

Close as he was now, Jubilee could feel the warmth he radiated, smell the fading musk of his aftershave and hear the rush of blood through his veins. He breached the small space to brush an errant wisp of hair from her cheek and the vampire surprised herself by not flinching.

‘Should I hire a stylist?’ he asked. ‘Update my look to better appeal to jaded single moms?’

‘Mmm… I hear they’re a very difficult demographic to break into.’

There was a quiver in her tone and it sent a thrilling tingledown David’s spine.

‘Well, I believe that with just the right approach...’ – his fingers slowly stroke their way down her cold cheek, and settle under her small defiant chin, tilting it upward – ‘...I’ll find them very malleable.’

He lips moved down to brush hers.

In the back of Jubilee’s mind, an angry little Canadian voice growled that this was a bad idea. But the vampire craved the hint of passion in this man’s brown eyes andshe leaned into him.

BANG!

The clatter of a plastic bottle hitting pavement and a heart-wrenching “Buhhh!” forced the two adults to jump apart.

Jubliee darted over to her crying son, hiding a deep scarlet blush from the man behind her as she fiddled around in Shogo’s baby bag for his pacifier.

‘Mommy’s an idiot,’ she whispered to the now merely sniffling boy before giving him a peck on the head.

And that was the problem with being a vampire, Raizo had warned her: you get distracted by shiny new things for a few minutes and then all that hard-fought-for control slips.

She heard some uncomfortable shuffling behind her, and then a rough clearing of the throat.

‘That was thoughtless of me….’ – for a man that appeared so steady minutes before, his words now tumbled out in a jumble – ’...I... don’t know what came over me… You have to believe me… I don’t usually come on that strong...’

‘It wasn’t your fault, we both got carried away. Must be the champagne,’ Jubilee covered, knowing the alcohol would’ve had little effect on her vampire metabolism.

Scrapping the shreds of her courage together, she stood up straight and faced him. At least he was as uncomfortable as she was now, his eyes flicking between her face and the ground.

‘I meant what I said. Seriously, I’m not some weirdo who frisks women in dark corners. I’d just like to sit down sometime and have a conversation. Whenever you’re free. No pressure. Look I’ll give you my card.’

He searched for his wallet and pulled out a gold-trimmed business card.

Taking a deep breath, she moved closer to take it, desperately avoiding the inviting rapid beats of his pulse and the gushing blood pumping through his heart.

She snatched the card in a flashand much to David’s dismay, she didn’t even so much as peek at it before shoving into the same pocket his handkerchief had disappeared into earlier.

‘It’s David, by the way,’ he said. ‘David Kelly.’

The woman seemed to freeze as she processed the information, then took a deliberate step backwards, in a protective blocking motion in front of her son.

‘Kelly? As in Robert Kelly?’ she croaked.

‘Yes...’ – the man answered, confused; rarely had his illustrious surname elicited such a reaction from a potential date; usually girls lapped it up – ‘Bob Kelly was my uncle.’

‘Your uncle was Robert Kelly? Senator Kelly who ran for President?’

Again Jubilee wished the earth would open. No wonder he'd looked familiar: David Kelly’s, resemblance to his uncle was unmistakable, down to his greying temples and all. Yip, Storm and Emma definately had never nearly kissed the nephew of a long-dead X-Men frenemy. They were smart enough to asked for names first.

‘Yeah, he ran for President,’ David confirmed, aware that there was something he’d missed. What did uncle Bob have to do with anything? Before he could get a chance to solve for x, Jubilee was pushing Shogo’s stroller away.

‘I have to go,’ she said hurriedly, without as much as a glance .

Not content to let her walk out of his life without an explanation, David blocked the exit from the courtyard.

‘Look, I know people don’t like politicians right now, but seriously, you can’t hold that against me. Just get to know me.’

‘I can’t,’ she said, averting his eyes, ‘you’re a _Kelly_.’

‘I’m a Kelly, so what?’

She tried to maneuver around him, but David didn’t budge, instead edging closer to the stroller. He backed off when he heard a low growl escape the woman’s throat. What was with this sudden change? What did she have against Uncle Bob?

_Wait… back in the hall, there was her easy way with McCoy_ , David recalled, remembering enough of his uncle’s political life to know why anyone who was on a first-name basis with Dr Henry McCoy might have a problem with the Kelly name.

‘You were one of Xavier’s mu...’ – David stopped, catching himself – ‘...students.’

For a moment it seemed as if she would make an instant dash for the exit, but she paused. ‘Yes, I was.’

As much as Jubilee hated it, it felt wrong storming off without at least giving him a reason.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, I heard what that madman did to him.’

Jubilee didn’t know what to make of David’swords - they sounded sincere. But a Kelly showing sympathy for the death of Charles Xavier at the hands of Cyclops? What an upside-down world they were living in.

The irony, though, was lost on David Kelly, who was just relieved at this glimmer of understanding.

‘Look, I know my uncle wasn’t always the greatest friend to mutants, but he died a different man.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The things he did during Zero Tolerance...’

‘Hold on, my uncle Bob opposed that lunatic Bastion.’

‘In the end. But the hatred he spread is what got Bastion started.’

‘Well, _I’m_ not my uncle! _I’m_ trying to make things right. Why do you think I’m here tonight? You see any other family members of ex-FoH leaders supporting prominent mutants scientists?!’

He hadn’t meant to yell at her, but after years of living in the shadow of ideology he’d never agreed with, David hated the insinuation that he was an anti-mutant bigot.

Still, hope rose in David when the girl didn’t storm away. She actually seemed to be thinking his words overs. Her death grip on the stroller's handles eased and it seemed she was going to say something.

But then she shook her head and pushed away, back towards the hall. This time David didn’t attempt to block her way.

Before she reached the lit entrance, she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

And David thought he heard a whispered ‘I’m sorry’ before she disappeared into the light.

* * *

 

_**Next Time: Jubes deals with the aftermath - Guest Starring: Psylocke and Kitty Pryde.** _

  



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